


Trust Me

by Direttissima



Category: Motorcycling RPF, Motorsport RPF
Genre: BDSM, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-18 09:42:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 21,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29607552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Direttissima/pseuds/Direttissima
Summary: Jorge gives away something on accident and Marc is hooked.
Relationships: Jorge Lorenzo/Marc Marquez
Comments: 116
Kudos: 26





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> **Not real.**  
>  This was the original Undisclosed Desires, before Seb and Charles stole my brain. Since you were curious (or even sad) this never saw the light of day, here you go ♥ Treat it gently, I promised myself I wouldn't do another MotoGP multichapter sth to break my heart and this is stressing me out.  
> Seriously, enjoy! (And don't complain if it's repetitive with the Sebchal, please. Just don't read it then. This is for the guys who liked the idea but couldn't warm up to Sebchal ♥)

It’s an accident, really. The words just tumble out without thinking.

“Good boy.”

The motorhome is completely and utterly silent and Jorge wants to die.

It was just starting to be nice, having Marc around during some race weekends. After all, they needed a few years to get from hating each other’s guts to flirty banter and the occasional bathroom fuck and he likes that it’s changed enough this season for Marc to occasionally be sitting here, in the kitchen of Jorge’s motorhome, nursing his coffee. And now, that. He only asked him to pour them milk and it just. He watched Marc finishing the task, sliding Jorge’s cup over and he just. His compartments got all mixed up and he slipped and he’s pretty sure he ruined it.

Until he dares to look up, into Marc’s eyes, and suddenly… his throat goes even drier because he’s not even sure ruin is the right word anymore.

“You,” Marc is the one who starts, finally, and of course he has more bravery than Jorge can accumulate in a lifetime. “You said good boy.”

It sounds thoughtful. Not disgusted. Jorge is reading the tone very carefully and nods, slowly, holding Marc’s gaze.

“And you sounded, uh, serious. For a moment.”

Marc is holding his gaze like it’s a challenge now, not batting a single eyelid and Jorge swallows around a giant lump. He was going to say that he is sorry, but it doesn’t quite seem necessary. Not with the way Marc’s pupils widened. And so, Jorge nods again instead. Slowly, and to make the implication a bit stronger, he licks his bottom lip thoughtfully.

“You have a – kink.” Marc blurts out, finally at least blushing a little and it would look adorable, or it does, but Jorge doesn’t have the nerves to appreciate it right now, where he nervously fidgets with his mug and stares into his coffee.

“A few,” he says softly, before he looks back up. If Marc can be bold, so can he. “Do you?”

It’s Marc’s turn to stare down his drink and Jorge loses all hope, expects him to get up and leave, when he shakes his head.

“No. Or.” Marc coughs and then pushes him up to his feet, Jorge’s heart sinking further. “I- I didn’t know I might.”

_Wait. What?_

Jorge’s eyes fly up and Marc is standing there, in T-Shirt and boxer briefs and Jorge looks where Marc is looking at his own crotch and –

“Okay. That’s. A reaction.” Jorge mutters while Marc sits back down, evading his eyes. His cheeks are bright pink, but he wouldn’t have said anything about this if he wasn’t at least somewhat intrigued. Would he?

“I didn’t know,” he repeats, stirring his coffee.

Trust them to stumble over that secret the morning before a race. Jorge curses their timing, his timing, inwardly and sighs.

“You – you seem like you want to talk about it, maybe?”

“Yeah.” Marc nods, but he doesn’t look up.

“Want to come visit, come to Lugano next weekend?”

It’s new. They never did that, meet each other outside the racing bubble. Marc’s gaze meets his, mix of uncertainty, shyness and the usual challenge.

“You’d want that?”

Images of possible best-case outcomes flash up in Jorge’s head and his pants are as tight as Marc’s when he nods. “Yeah.”

Marc nods thoughtfully. “Okay.”

“Okay.”

It’s a deal, isn’t it? They inhale their coffee and then they need to basically run, and if Jorge is a bit less focused because his head is maybe still busy processing, then he thinks he really can’t be blamed. And when Marc’s towering him from that top step, he cannot stop himself from leaning in too closely for that one instant.

“Good boy,” he hisses, making sure nobody else can catch it and yeah, the trick works twice, he thinks, watching a beautiful blush spread over Marc’s face.

_You’re hooked._


	2. Please Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These feel embarrassingly short, I'm sorry about that ♥ Maybe it fits with the idea of baby steps? In the end, it will just mean there'll be more chapters :P  
> But they're fun to write and thank you so much for reading and hand holding (it's much needed ♥)

The doorbell catches him by surprise. Which is funny, really, when they’ve texted about this maybe a hundred time over last week. Still, just until right now, Jorge hadn’t thought it was actually going to happen. Hadn’t expected him to show up. The real Marc. In Jorge's real house. Just because Jorge asked him to.

_You’re a good boy, aren’t you?_

The nerves are hitting badly when he walks up to the front door, planning his next steps. He’s planned them during every possible moment this past week, be it during a run or before he went to sleep, Marc occupying every cell of his brain. Not once had he considered this a possible outcome, not in his wildest dreams.And he entertained a lot of exciting fantasies that include the boy over the past years.

_Don’t get too excited, he might back out of it any second._

“Hi,” he says, trying hard for cheery and bright and ending up squeaky and too loud, but Marc doesn’t look like he minds too much.

_Actually, you look practically terrified. I mean… you definitely look scared._

“Hi.”

He sounds so small. Like a little boy and that’s kind of how he’s standing there, small and lost and staring at his feet and damned, that’s not helping Jorge to stay focused at all.

“How was your flight?” He casually takes Marc’s suitcase and puts it out of the way.

“It was okay." Marc is evading his gaze, still. Apparently, he's trying to fade into the floor tiles. "No delay or anything.”

“Come here,” Jorge can’t help chuckling at the image, like some kicked puppy and he pulls him into a hug, buries his nose in Marc’s shirt, takes in his scent which has become familiar over the years and he sighs when Marc’s fingers slide under his shirt and then he can finally kiss him and taste him and, their little arrangement or adventure aside, isn’t it glorious that he’s here, at Jorge’s place, in Jorge’s arms and that he’s going to spend the night?

When he pulls back, because even multiple world champions do work on oxygen at the end of the day, he’s grinning so widely and his heart is racing and yeah, there are all these butterflies in his stomach, too.

“We should have done this so much earlier,” Jorge blurts out, holding Marc at arm’s length and marveling him and the situation and just everything.

“This?” Marc blinks, his eyes confused and then he licks his bottom lip and it takes a lot of willpower from Jorge to not just unceremoniously drag him to the bedroom to fuck the awkwardness out of the way.

“You, staying, here,” Jorge gestures around, smiles, feels the butterflies do little somersaults when Marc smiles back. _Finally._

“You would have liked?” Marc runs a hand through his hair and has the audacity to blush and well, Jorge can’t be blamed if this takes a turn to the bedroom any second.

_God, you’re hot and cute and how did I not come up with this earlier?_

“Yeah, I guess. Didn’t realize it, but yeah, you look damned good in my house.”

Marc laughs, that sound that’s as obnoxious as lovable, and Jorge feels his chest get lighter. “Thanks, I guess? Glad I make good decoration.”

“Mhm, you’d be better decoration if you were naked, but we’ll get to that,” Jorge replies with a smirk, loving how it makes Marc turn even redder and how it makes him giggle and relax at the same time.

“Want to have a coffee, talk some?” Jorge cocks his head to the side.

_We should really talk. A lot. Because if you’re here… it doesn’t just mean we’re taking that step towards a relationship… it also means. Well. We’re investigating the other thing._

“Yeah, sounds good.” Some of the tension drains from Marc’s body.

_Were you afraid I’d tie you up and whip you the second you crossed the doorstep?_

Jorge guides Marc to the kitchen, a finger hooked in Marc’s belt loop to lead. Marc eyes him curiously when he slides his hand there and something sparks in his eyes.

_You realize. You understand._

They don’t talk about it and it’s not the moment, but Jorge takes internal notes diligently.

“Pick up two cups from that shelf.” He points to the other side of the room as he withdraws his hand and starts the coffee machine which comes to life making sounds like a wounded dragon.

Marc stops in his tracks briefly, cocks his head and then he straightens visibly as he crosses the room and brings back two cups, holding them out a little helplessly when he’s arrived in front of Jorge, his eyes open and trusting - and nervous.

Jorge bites back a moan when he watches him bite his bottom lip again.

_Boy. You’re killing me here._

“Thank you,” he says, taking the porcelain and a deep breath, deciding that Marc will be ready, “Such a good boy.”

He aims for his voice to be as sincere as possible, not quite sure if Marc is understanding there’s no mockery in the words and Jorge’s made too many bad experiences with these kind of things over the years to not be cautious. So, he’s relieved when he sees the shiver running through Marc’s body, the brief instant where he closes his eyes and inhales sharply, his Adam’s apple bobbing.

“Sit down.” Jorge smirks as he doesn’t miss the small movement of Marc’s hands, adjusting his jeans.

_Damned, you’re easy. So easy, I can't believe we didn't find out about your... kink... earlier._

One little thing… one thing he’ll dare testing. Jorge takes a deep breath and watches Marc approach the table, aiming for a chair.

“No. Not that one.” His voice cuts the air. Not loud, but determined, firm.

Marc freezes on the spot, his cheeks bright red and then he looks at him as if he’s about to tear up.

“Take the chair next to it. The other one’s mine.” Unwavering. Jorge is testing the waters here and _yeah_ , Marc is fighting back tears and that’s almost scarily easy and _wow_ , this will a lot of responsibility to handle. It's nothing like Jorge ever experienced. Or expected. 

_Trust Marquez to be one level ahead of the rest. On everything._

“Yes, that’s the right one. Thank you.”

He starts the first coffee and watches as Marc relaxes over his words, catches himself.

_We will have so much fun together._


	3. Tease Me

The table is shimmering in the afternoon light as Jorge sets the mugs down, Marc thanking him almost absentmindedly and seeming like he's lost in his own little world. Jorge lets him and stirs his drink, propping his chin up on his hand as he watches Marc think.

_You are the most beautiful man I've ever been with. Too beautiful almost... as if I didn't deserve having you here._

When Marc starts speaking out of nowhere, Jorge startles briefly. “You didn’t just say that earlier because of the… 'good boy'-thing, right?”

Marc is fidgeting with his mug, it’s making Jorge nervous but he doesn’t have the heart to tell him off. He looks lost and insecure in a way that Jorge only very rarely has experienced him and it’s doing things to Jorge, nagging painfully.

“What do you mean?” He knows he sounds as cautious as Marc. Everything feels like they’re on such thin ice though.

“You- you don’t just want me to stay for _that_ kind of stuff. Do you?”

_Oh you… fool._

“No.” Jorge should have thought about that, he should have explained or said more and on the other hand, damned, how is Marc so thick about all of this? Is he not reading anything from the way Jorge’s inviting him and talking to him and everything? “God, look at me.” He doesn’t mean to snap, but the way Marc is picking at the mug and staring at his fingers is seriously driving him up the wall.

“Sorry.” Marc does lift his head, _finally_ , but his eyes look so nervous and scared, it’s almost worse than the fidgeting.

“I- okay, I’m not… I’m terrible with this kind of stuff. And I’m… I’m a little scared myself, but I’m going to say this now and I’m begging you that if I read everything wrong you at least don’t laugh at me.”

Marc’s look is so full of confusion now.

_Guess I can only be reading this right._

“I would like to spend more time with you. Not for sex. Just for being with you. Outside of race weekends. Because I-“ _Take a breath. Don’t faint. Don’t cry._ “Because I like you. A lot.”

_I’m having a stroke. I’m pretty sure this is what having a stroke feels like._

Marc is staring at him for the longest ten seconds of his entire life, mouth hanging open and face a complete blank and for a few terrifying moments Jorge thinks he _is_ going to burst out laughing after all.

“Really?”

_You’re officially an idiot, Marquez, congratulations._

“Yeah.”

And finally, Marc smiles. Wider and wider and Jorge lets out the breath he’d been holding and slowly returns the grin.

“Same.” Marc nods and grins and then bursts into his normal laughter and it’s not even annoying Jorge anymore. “We needed a long time to tell each other,” Marc adds when he stops the laughing.

“Maybe.” Jorge shrugs. “Caution isn’t a bad thing.”

“True.”

“So,” Jorge props his head up on his hands. “This is not just about me wanting to have kinky sex with you. I like having you here either way. But, if you wanted – and only if you wanted – I would also love to try the other thing.”

“Right.” Marc stares out of the window and Jorge can’t tell what he wants. At all.

“Seriously, we can just forget about it.”

“I.” Marc stops again, hands rubbing his face and messing with his hair in the process and Jorge thinks it looks even better when it’s ruffled. “This is difficult, okay?”

Jorge tries to remember how it was when he first… and okay. “I know. I know it’s confusing and weird. You want to talk about it anyway or you just want to go for a walk or something and think some more.”

“Can I, uh,” Marc finishes his coffee first and then looks at him intently, “ask you a few things? Like, private stuff?”

_Aw. That’s. Cute? I guess?_

“Of course,” Jorge answers with a smile, hoping to sound as encouraging as possible. He lifts his own mug, watching Marc over the rim, while he’s obviously struggling to find the words and blushing again and it’s heartbreakingly sweet.

“You’ve done that before?”

“Can you… be a little more specific? You mean a bdsm relationship?”

Marc nods.

“Yes, I have.”

_I know what I’m doing. Theoretically. Reality is that it’s never been anything like I would think it could be with you. But I’m not ready to tell you. And I don’t think I’ll ever be._

“What did you, uh, do?”

“Have you looked into it?” Jorge gauges carefully, doesn’t want to scare him away.

“I just watched some porn.”

_Yikes. That’s not the best approach._

“It’s not usually like the porn movies,” he chuckles. “I’m not going to tie you up in the basement and whip you. Unless you ask me to one day. But certainly not anytime soon.”

He does not miss that the ‘unless you ask me to’makes Marc’s eyes light up.

“And what is it like? If it’s not like porn?”

“Okay, that’s so different depending on what people like though. It’s so broad.”

“Tell me what you like. Or did.” Most of Marc's confidence seems to have returned, going by how he shoots the question now.

_But... your voice is… hoarse?_

“Okay, I can do that. But only if you promise me you won’t run, I will not expect anything in that direction from you and I will happily keep things the way they were if you prefer.”

_I might die from blue balls now that you’ve planted some visions in my head, and I might weep, but it’s not a must. Only a hope. That I’m trying to manifest._

Jorge swallows and Marc nods carefully.

“I see.”

_Okay. How do I start? And why is the idea of saying these things so scary?_

Jorge can sense that he’s blushing now himself and giggles nervously.

“So, I tried quite a few things, but you wanted to know what I actually like. So… I get off on people just following my orders without questioning. Obedience. It’s just… someone trying so hard to please me, to be perfect… I don’t mind tying someone up, but what’s even better, hotter, that’s when I say ‘hold on to the headboard’ and their fingers just stay there. No binds. No strings. Just my voice.”

Aaand he needs to shake off the mental images that provokes or else his jeans are bursting any second now.

“But I also like to reward, use maybe a blindfold, or restraints, to tease, to make someone anxious, nervous. See how they tremble under my touch and just being in charge, even if it’s just to caress. Tickle, scratch, nibble. Very sensual actually.”

“No toys? Or furniture?” Marc looks a little unsure about everything and that only gets worse, when Jorge can’t hold back a little laugh.

“Sorry, but that’s… you watched a lot of porn, didn’t you? Anyway… I have all of those and there’s some I enjoy. If you want to, we can look at it eventually, but we’re not even close to using anything fancy.”

“Do you…” Marc hesitates and then looks down in his lap. “Do you like to hurt people?”

“Woah, you make that sound pretty bad,” Jorge chuckles. “I don’t know how to say it… I like a submissive to strive and I will not hesitate to punish, but that doesn’t have to be physically painful. Just inflicting pain in itself is not really a turn on for me. Unless my partner is a masochist and gets off when they experience pain, I mean… that’s hot to watch then, but then it’s not turning me on because I’m hurting them, then it’s turning me on that they’re moaning and begging for more and squirming and everything.”

The silence worries him, lets him fear that he put Marc off after all, and he’s relieved when Marc speaks up after a moment.

“Do people really enjoy that?”

“Some do, some don't. I guess some never try and so they never find out.”

“But it won’t be a problem if I don’t?”

“Nope. As I said, it’s not my primary interest.” Jorge watches his own fingers, moves them, remembers the feel of leather and steel against them. “What about you? Did you by chance see things or hear things that made you curious?”

Marc hides his face in his hands at that and Jorge lets him, wants him to have the time until he’s ready to say it.

“I… I’d try almost everything I saw. I mean. It’s… it’s so weird that I never knew, don’t you think? And then you say that… and I’m hooked. From two words. Just lost. I feel like I’d do anything if you’d say that to me afterwards.”

_Praise kink._

Jorge smiles. Thinks how it’s so fitting for Marc that he wants to try everything at once.

“We’ll go slow,” he says anyway, ignoring the frown that crosses Marc’s face. “Have you heard of the color system with red, yellow and green?”

“Yes.” Marc nods hesitantly. He’s nervous, again or still, as if he’s suddenly realizing they’re actually going somewhere with this.

“We will use that for now, okay? And I will also just stop if you tell me to, anytime. And before we try anything a bit more extreme, we will discuss safewording and limits. Would that be okay?”

“Sure. When do we…or how? I can’t really…how do we start that?”

“Well, for the afternoon, we’ll just do a few little things on the go… a bit like with the mugs? And then I think the rest will follow naturally.”

Jorge has dreamed about this opportunity. Fantasized. Prayed for it. And it’s so close, he’s almost bursting, and he will have to hold back so fucking much to not scare Marc away, to lock away the part of him that indeed wants to take him down to the basement and tie him up and try if the little bastard does enjoy a cane after all. Just to hear him beg.

_Bad thoughts, bad, bad, bad thoughts Jorge. Get your head straight._

Marc is looking at him questioningly from across the table.

“Is there anything else you want to know?”

“Do I… still… call you Jorge?”

_Oh, I really want to know what kind of shit you watched._

“Yes, please. Just… please, stick to Jorge.”

“Okay.”

“So,” Jorge pushes his chair back but stays seated. “Come here and straddle me.”

He deliberately lowers his voice a bit, wants Marc to know that he’s offering to play, begs that Marc will join and he watches him consider the words, eyes darting to Jorge’s lap and back to his eyes and then he’s almost looking transfixed as he gets up from his chair and sits down on Jorge’s thighs.

It’s a little difficult to stay focused now, Marc’s smell hitting him like a wave, Marc’s weight solid on him, and Jorge’s hands slide under the team hoodie and rest against the hot skin of Marc’s back as he looks up.

“Can you feel what you’re doing to me?” He bites his bottom lip, presses Marc forward and holds back a moan as their crotches meet, the feeling overwhelming even through two layers of dark denim.

“Yeah,” Marc shudders and his head drops against Jorge’s.

“That’s just because of you,” Jorge bucks his hips slightly and grits his teeth while Marc whimpers at the contact. “Just because you’re such a beautiful thing. Such a good boy for me.”

“Fuck.” Marc’s fingers dig into his shoulders and stay clenched in Jorge’s t-shirt. “I had no idea,” Marc adds, slightly whiny, and Jorge smiles at that.

_Me neither._


	4. Show me how it's done

“Okay, I want you to stand up and take off your shirt.”

Marc regrets having to stop things there and feels a little wistful when he reluctantly climbs off Jorge’s lap. But if they kept it up any longer, chances are it would have been over in a few minutes and he gets that they don’t want that to happen.

It’s weird, that effect of Jorge’s voice when he’s like that… firm and dominant. Marc is aroused and jittery and way too excited.

“Okay,” he mutters as he takes a step back. His voice probably sounds a little unsure which is funny considering he posts half-naked pictures on Instagram all the time and now he’s literally squirming under Jorge’s gaze. It’s so different though from posting something or undressing in the heat of the moment. Right now, Jorge is staring at him so intently, nothing like normal.

The shirt is dropped on a chair and Jorge tuts, looking at him full of disapproval.

“Fold it and put it away neatly. Here,” Jorge reaches for it, folds it up and puts an orderly squared piece of fabric on the share, “that’s how it’s supposed to look.”

_Right. So not only can you sit on the wrong chair here, you can also get scolded for not being tidy. If you keep it up, I’m calling you ‘mom’ later just to rile you up._

“Put the shirt back on and try again.”

Marc sighs, but he can’t keep himself from obeying the instructions anyway, Jorge’s voice doing things to him that he wasn’t aware could happen.

“That’s better,” Jorge nods approvingly, leaning back to watch him languidly and Marc feels scrutinized and doesn’t know where to look while his skin is covered with little goose bumps and the hair in his neck stands up.

“Turn around.”

That’s even worse, knowing Jorge’s staring and not seeing exactly what he’s doing.

“Okay, turn back around.”

Marc’s throat is very dry right now and he tries to evade Jorge’s eyes, a blush spreading from his face down to his chest.

“That was good. You’re following orders nicely.”

“Thank you?” Marc shudders.

“It’s meant as a compliment, yeah. How does it feel?”

“I don’t know.” _I don’t have words for this._ “A bit like I don’t have a choice. Almost as if you’re hypnotizing me.”

“But you’re not regretting it?” Jorge seems so insecure about it.

“No. I don’t.” Marc shakes his head, though he might like his shirt back now? “It’s making me nervous, but that’s probably because it’s new.”

“Yeah.” Jorge sounds a bit hoarse and coughs and yeah, okay, at least Marc is nice enough to look at to cause a reaction. “So. What do you want to do next, go for a walk or run or something?” Jorge looks at him, uncertain it seems. “I’d let you have the shirt back for that of course.”

And Marc? Doesn’t really have an idea and suddenly realizes he might not know how relationships work?

_What do you do in such a situation?_

“I don’t really know… I don’t really want to go outside,” he replies hesitantly and curses inwardly when he sees Jorge’s face fall.

_This was the wrong answer, I guess?_

“Oh,” Jorge frowns. “Are you uncomfortable being seen?”

_Fuck._

“No, wait.” Marc scratches his head and feels his muscles tense in despair, it sucks when it happens, when he forgets how to articulate the most basic stuff and it happens with Jorge more often than he’d want it to. “That’s not what I meant.”

So far, it doesn’t look like he convinced Jorge who’s folding his arms and leaning back in his chair. Marc distantly remembers he’s very less dressed than Jorge and suddenly feels uncomfortable, his own arms crossing in front of him to hide his bare chest some, too.

“What would you suggest then?”

“I, uh,” Marc takes a deep breath. It’s worth a try? “You, uh, have a bedroom, right?”

He tries for his most seductive voice, carefully arches a single eyebrow.

Jorge freezes anyway and then laughs and okay, worth a try but complete failure.

“I’m not surprised, but Marc, that’s… too fast. Even for you.”

“I just… don’t you think we should maybe… get it out of the way?”

At that, Jorge frowns, making Marc fear he said something wrong yet again.

“Wait, you think you need to get it out of the way? You do realize we don’t have to do it at all, right?”

“Oh fuck, that sounded wrong again. I mean… it will be less awkward if we just.. I don’t know.”

“What? You think if I just go upstairs with you, put you over my knees and spank you it’ll feel better?” Jorge looks amused now. Marc prefers that to the frown any time, but he’s still getting desperate with their lack of progress here.

“I don’t know, Jorge, I don’t understand how this works.”

“Okay, I get it,” Jorge chuckles. “But you still don’t want to be out in public?”

“Not unless you absolutely want to. I kind of… well, I’d like to have you to myself?” And he feels his cheeks heat up at it and wants to hide his face, now, too.

Across from him, Jorge’s lips curl up into a beautiful smile though and then he thinks for a moment before he suddenly looks eager apparently having a plan on his mind.

“You know what, I do have an idea. Want to play a round of Fifa?”

“Yeah. That’s nice actually. Fifa is good.” Marc nods, he really is on board with that.

The shirt has to stay on the chair though, Jorge not offering it and Marc too proud to ask, following him to the living room half-naked then.

He’s ready to flop down on the couch when Jorge’s voice cuts through the air.

“Nope, you’re not sitting on the couch.”

_What?_

He watches as Jorge pushes his coffee table forward and then puts one of the big sofa cushions on the floor, next to his feet.

“Are you kidding?”

“Kneeling is a very big thing with most bdsm relationships.” Jorge has the audacity to smirk and then pointedly looks down at the pillow.

Suddenly, Marc is very aware of his bare chest and his slightly tented pants and shudders.

_If I do this… I will be kneeling at your feet._

Marc’s throat constricts and he eyes the pillow warily. At least, Jorge just gives him the time right now and doesn’t interfere, just stands there and watches him, looking somewhat guarded.

Now that he’s come to Lugano… for Jorge, of course, because wow, he has not expected that offer ever and it’s certainly a thing he would have wanted either way, a next step he’d been craving… but also he also came here for that. And he might as well give it a shot.

“Will you be disappointed if I don’t like it?” He looks at Jorge and Jorge just shakes his head, grinning.

“No, you idiot. Seriously, I love fucking you either way.”

That takes off some of the tension and makes the laughter bubble up inside him.

_Okay, I can do it._

The pillow is thick under his knees. Not as bad as he thought. He settles and Jorge doesn’t make a big deal out of it, flops down on the couch casually, handing him his controller.

Until… “Good boy,” Jorge mutters, patting his head.

Marc’s already half-hard cock twitches traitorously. Somehow, he still can’t quite believe he never knew. It’s so easy. Two words and hot flashes run through him, blood heading south, throat going dry. All for two fucking words? And Lorenzo of all people makes him find out?

“Uh, you kind of, have to pick?”

Marc flinches, shaken out of his thoughts. His eyes fly to the huge screen and yeah, okay… how long has he stared into space and embarrassed himself?

“Sorry,” he stammers slightly and winces when he hears Jorge laugh above him.

“No probs. I guess I’m winning if you can’t focus anymore.”

Marc slaps his thigh. And decides he will show him, shoving aside the thoughts of his position and his lack of shirt and it works well enough he decides, when the final score is a fat 3-0 for him.

“I won, do I get a reward now?”

“Cheeky.” Jorge at least bends down for a kiss but breaks away too soon for Marc’s taste. “And horny. You think you deserve a reward?”

“Please, Jorge, stop being mean.” Marc looks at Jorge’s lips, eyes captivated by a little bit saliva still coating them. He’s not unfazed, Marc thinks, two tell-tale spots of pinks high on his cheeks and a quick glance confirms his jeans are as tight as Marc’s.

_Why won’t you just do something then? You want to yourself._

Patience has never been his virtue and Jorge _knows_ and is having too much fun with that information.

“You got a kiss,” Jorge says cheekily. “Isn’t that enough?”

Marc groans in frustration.

“Asshole.”

“If we were further with this thing, that would have gotten you punished, honey.”

“Feel free.”

“You realize that a punishment won’t be something that you enjoy? So if it turns out you like being spanked, I won’t use that.”

“What?”

“It’s a punishment, it’s supposed to discourage you from repeating that. Like, unless I want you to call me asshole all the time, I will punish you with something you hate so you will think twice before you do that again.”

That makes a whole lot of sense and still sounds totally undesirable.

“Example?” Marc croaks, overthinking if he’d voluntary want to have a relationship that would include having to do things he hates.

“I don’t know. I’d have to figure out what you don’t like.” Jorge shrugs and Marc’s neck is beginning to strain from twisting and craning upwards all the time. “Edging seems like a safe bet.”

“Edging?”

“That would mean making you wait for your orgasm forever and since it’s a punishment, probably even teasing you for a while and then denying you completely.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Uh, yeah, actually, I would.”

The idea alone is making Marc wince and frown – and at the same time, the word ‘punishment’ is ringing in his ears and making his cock take an interest by itself. It’s apparently behaving continuously traitorous today.

“You reconsidering your choices?” Jorge’s hand runs through Marc’s hair, fingers scratching his scalp and he hums as he leans into the touch.

_I swear you sound nervous… so it does kind of matter after all, doesn’t it?_

“No.” Marc shakes his head and hums happily as Jorge now uses both hands to massage his shoulders.

“But?”

“Realizing I don’t understand much. I only know it makes me horny. It’s a bit weird.”

And uncomfortable. He keeps shifting on his thighs, but honestly, after two hours of kneeling, there’s no position left where nothing hurts or loses blood circulation.

“Okay… what would you think about a drink and some talking?”

“Sure.” As if he had a choice.

“Let’s go to the kitchen, your legs must hurt.”

Marc doesn’t comment on it, but Jorge won’t miss the grimace on his face when he raises himself onto wobbly legs and limps while he follows him back to the kitchen, taking the same chair as earlier.

“Good boy,” Jorge confirms, ruffling his hair, making Marc squirm on his chair.

“You really have a praise kink,” Jorge chuckles.

_Hey, there’s even a name for it. Who would have thought?_

“I really didn’t know.” And then he thinks of something and jerks his head up. “Maybe it’s you?”

Jorge turns from where he’s rummaging his fridge, eyes wide. Marc can see him swallow.

_Was that a wrong thing to say?_

“I don’t… you don’t mean you’re doing it because of me, are you?”

“Seriously? You think I could provoke actual bodily reactions just to pretend to like that and to get in your pants? I mean… I have many talents, but that’s not on the list.”

At least, it makes Jorge smile again. “Idiot.”

Marc thinks it sounded fond.

“You want water or maybe soft drink because it’s a special occasion?”

“Wine.”

“What?”

“What?” Marc mirrors Jorge’s expression of shock and then shrugs.

Jorge resigns and comes back with a bottle of white wine and glasses. “Pour our drinks, babe.”

That tone. It’s riling Marc up again already, his fingers shaky as he pours the wine.

“You’re eager to try, aren’t you?”

“You keep teasing me all afternoon and my jeans are literally hurting me. What do you think?” Marc cocks his head and tries the wine. He’d bet it’s three-digits per bottle, he knows how Jorge is about this shit. It still just tastes like wine.

“What would you say if after the drinks I do take you upstairs and we try something and then we order pizza and watch a movie?”

“Depends.” Marc loves the way he can make Jorge’s face fall. “Which movie?”

“And I’m the asshole? Damned, don’t scare me like that. You can pick actually. But you’ll go back on that pillow.”

That’s not even unexpected. And maybe Marc is interested, too.

“Anything Marvel is fine with me.”

“Deal.”

Marc stares at his glass and nips on it.

What the hell does try something entail?

“The color system is still in place, right?”

“Always.” Jorge nods. “Anything else you want to talk about now?”

“Why are we doing this so fucking slowly?”

It makes Jorge laugh out loud. “Because it’s a big thing. It’s going to mess with your head at some points and I’d rather be careful than scare you off.”

Right. There’s something else… something bigger. And maybe.

Marc takes a deep breath and digs his fingers into his jeans. “You want me around for longer.”

“Yeah. We kind of established that, didn’t we?”

“Are we… I mean, I’m visiting you. At your place. We’re… a thing, right?”

That gets Jorge’s full attention, staring him down now with darkening eyes, chin propped up again.

_You look so sexy like that._

“A thing. Like. You want to call it a relationship?”

Jorge sounds wary and Marc wonders whoever broke him in that way before he tries to shrug as casually as possible. “I would, yeah.”

“Same.”

At least, that’s settled then. And probably it makes sense to settle it before he embarks on his next adventure in the path of discovering his sexual identity. Jorge really has a way of challenging him there, Marc thinks, considering he’d been a happy straight guy with only girlfriends until Jorge convinced him otherwise.

_So… what if I’m not just gay for you but also submissive for you?_

Marc puts his empty glass back on the table and raises an eyebrow.

“Ready?” Jorge asks, his glass joining Marc’s.

“I’ve been ready for a few hours. You’re stalling this.”

“Oh my. If your mouth keeps running off like that, you’ll just be calling for punishments.”

Following Jorge into the hallway and up the stairs, not missing how Jorge naturally takes his suitcase along for him, Marc thinks that there’d be worse things than punishments. At least, considering the way the word keeps making him shiver.

_What if you ever said I was a bad boy?_


	5. Soothe Me

"Bedroom, Marc. Marc, bedroom." He waves around, aiming for a joking introduction, hoping it will take away some of the tension. At least, it's making Marc chuckle.

Jorge watches carefully as he scans the room, which isn't very exciting after all. It has white walls and a simple futon bed, not even a fancy headboard or anything. Jorge hides those things in a different bedroom. There's doors to the ensuite bathroom and the walk in closet and giant floor length windows with a view over the lake. Jorge draws the curtains though, not that anyone could look, there's no neighbors, but just to make it feel more intimate, the dim light seeming more fitting. 

Marc's suitcase sits at the door, a happy reminder that he's here to stay. That there's still time.

“You... uh. You said you had toys?” _Aw. You're disappointed, aren't you?_

He must have watched so much porn that he's probably expected black leather and a St. Andrew's cross.

Jorge shakes his head with a chuckle. “Not yet. If you’re being a good boy,” damned that does things to you… “If you’re being a good boy now and you behave, I will show you the toys later. After the movie. And if you behave well during the movie I might just let you pick one single thing to test tonight. But only one.”

"Oh." 

_Disppointment looks cute on you. You're so not used to not get everything at once._

"Take off your clothes." Jorge leans back against the wall, arms folded in front of his black shirt, waiting.

Marc's eyes dart between him and the bed and then Marc slowly wriggles out of his socks and jeans, putting everything away neatly, which Jorge comments with an approving hum. 

_Quick learner._

When he loses the boxers, Marc looks shy and Jorge wants to squeal in delight. He pretty much even tries to cover himself, turning around with a bright red face ans his hands in his lap.

“You’re not going to get undressed?” Marc looks incredibly self-conscious and Jorge shakes his head.

_That bit of uncertainty looks good on you. It’s such a rare thing to happen after all._

“Lay down on your back.”

Adorably nervous, that’s how he looks when he climbs on Jorge’s bed, sitting awkwardly in the middle before he leans back.

“You look gorgeous.” Jorge means it, his breath hitching at the image of Marc’s body spread on top of his pristine grey sheets. Except, he’s looking a bit like a stiff board, arms by his side and eyes squeezed shut.

“Put your hands to above your head.” Jorge watches as Marc raises his arms hesitantly, only making himself more vulnerable and then he takes Marc’s wrists and crosses them, thumb rubbing a little circle. “Keep them still, will you?”

“Yes.” Marc shudders and his chest is heaving irregularly. His eyes stay closed which is interesting. Jorge is dying to tell him to look at him but for the first attempt he won’t. However Marc thinks he can cope best is fine.

“Relax, okay?” Jorge sits down on the edge of the mattress and then runs his fingers over Marc chest, watching the muscles twitch beneath them. This day is taking so much self-control. Marc would let him do anything, he’s figured out that much, and it physically hurts to hold back and not jump on the other. Rationally, Jorge knows exactly that it would be wrong to rush. In reality, Marc is splayed there like a Greek god with all his muscles carved like he were a statue and his scars reminding Jorge of his vulnerability at the same time. And Marc has been hard for most of the afternoon, and so has Jorge. And now he is looking at the way his cock stands up proud, dark. A droplet of precome trailing down that Jorge would love to lap up with his tongue and he releases a shaky breath as his fingers pinch one of Marc’s nipples.

A wince crosses his face and when Jorge doesn’t let go, he hisses and Jorge almost comes in his pants when he sees Marc bite down on his bottom lip and clench his fists – without moving an inch.

“Good boy,” he mumbles, Marc’s breath hitching once again, but Jorge uses the same moment to twist his nipple slightly more. “Imagine the things I could do to you. The ways I could punish you for saying all those bad, bad words. You’ve been a little naughty, haven’t you?”

Marc _whines_. The memory of that sound will be engraved in Jorge’s memory for a lifetime.

“You’re beautifully responsive,” he whispers, his fingers letting go of Marc’s nipple and Marc releases a relieved sigh that makes Jorge smirk.

_Ah, no, you’re not of the hook. Not yet._

He bends down and licks the skin around it before sucking it into his mouth, Marc’s hips bucking already and then, when Marc’s just calming down under him, he _bites_.

“Jorge, fuck.”

_So responsive._

He pulls away with a chuckle, Marc panting, eyes wide open now and staring at him hungrily. “Please,” he whimpers, and Jorge’s eyes are glued to his wrists.

_You did not move. For all your talking and pushing. You did not move your hands a single inch._

Only his fingers are clenched into each other, but that’s not a problem. Jorge licks his bottom lip and then leans up to press a kiss to Marc’s wrists, feeling the pulse there race.

“You’re doing so well for me.” Another whimper.

Jorge reaches for his nightstand and fishes for the lube, Marc’s eyes following his movements and pupils dilating at the sight.

“Okay, since you’ve been really, really good so far, I will show you a little more. But I want you to spread your legs a little further.”

Marc hesitates again, but follows eventually.

“Nah. I know how flexible you are. You can do better than this.”

 _Woah._ The way that flash of hurt ran over Marc’s face… incredible. _You’ll hate if you ever really mess up, won’t you? That’s so fucking ambivalent though… mouthing off constantly and then when you’re scolded you’re in tears instantly. Fuck._

Marc’s legs spread properly now. Further than Jorge could, if he’s being honest, but Marc’s cat-like flexibility has been an ongoing joke in the paddock ever since the first articles about it showed up and Jorge’s the only one of them who’s gotten decent proof of it, too.

“Much better. Now I can see all of you properly.”

He warms the lube between his fingers as Marc’s face turns a deeper shade of red and his eyes close again.

 _Ashamed. How cute. And how pretty… that blush high on these cheekbones_. Marc has the most beautiful face Jorge’s ever seen on a man. And it’s incredible how he can go from innocent and boyish to this, to rebel without a cause, jaw set firmly and everything looking dark, within only seconds.

“Now, I will keep this up, stroking your beautiful cock,” Jorge’s fingers close around the base and his other hand stops Marc’s hips from raising up, “and you will not move. You will take what I give to you but you will not push, do you understand?”

Marc’s body is shaking slightly as Jorge gives him a few measured tugs.

“Y-yes.”

“Color?”

“Green.”

“Good boy.” Jorge smiles. His own cock is painfully hard, too, but this is worth it, seeing the way Marc is fighting to restrain himself, trying to stay still as he moves his hand up and down leisurely. Beautiful.

“We will do so many things, you know? I could be dripping some hot wax onto your chest right now. Or… considering how you loved your nipples abused, we could try clamps.” He observes every reaction carefully, takes notes what makes Marc’s breath hitch and what makes his knuckles go white. 2Maybe with a little chain so I can yank every once in a while.” Every whimper goes straight to Jorge’s lap and he never knew how easy Marc was, how quick he could push him down the rabbit hole. “Mhm, you’ll be gorgeous then, making all those pretty noises. Maybe you’ll even be begging me to stop.” Marc’s jaw sets as he groans. “You might even cry a bit. All for me, just to be my good boy. All pliant and obedient for me.”

Jorge does not speed up one bit, knowing exactly that it’s not quite enough. “You’re so hard for me, so desperate. I love how responsive you are. But I don’t want you to come, you know? It’s too early.”

“Please,” Marc must have tried hard not to let it slide, but there it is. “Jorge, stop teasing, please. I need more.”

“But I just said… I don’t want you to come.” He speeds up slightly anyway, Marc letting out a stuttering moan. “I mean, I could give you more,” he squeezes slightly, sees how Marc is getting there. “But it would be a real shame if you just came now. Without my permission. Like some bad boy.”

Marc mewls at that. “Please, let me. Please.”

He chants the words, keeps repeating them and Jorge feels him getting tense and just before it’s too far, he takes his hand away.

“Ah, no, you can’t come yet.”

“Oh, fuck.” Marc is close to crying, Jorge can tell by the way his voice breaks and he’s quivering, cock impossibly dark and just leaking now.

“See?” He shifts his own position so he’s sitting closer to Marc’s face, cupping one of his cheeks gently, thumb wiping away a stray tear and his other hand pushing a black curl back that’s clinging to the sheen of sweat on Marc’s forehead.

Marc is blinking at him, eyes trusting but lips wobbly. “Please,” he begs breathlessly, resigned. Broken.

“No, my beautiful boy, not yet. You’ll have to be good for a little longer.” Jorge presses a kiss to his forehead and watches in awe how his wrists are still where Jorge put them. “That’s what edging is all about. I could do that for hours. Until you couldn’t even cry anymore, until you feel like you’re going totally crazy. Tie you up on a kitchen chair and repeat that over and over.”

Marc whimpers again and Jorge can’t stop himself from bending down for a kiss, his tongue chasing for Marc’s taste and even now, Marc’s hands stay right where he put them.

“You’re a really good boy,” Jorge says when he pulls back and he means it and Marc’s eyes fly open, lips curling in a tentative smile.

“Please? It’s so much it hurts.”

“Okay,” Jorge smiles and nods. It’s been going on for half an hour. That’s a lot for a first try and they’ve got so much more time to try things. He might as well. “This time you may come, but only if you manage to still not move.

“I’ll be good for you, please, I promise, just, please, touch me again.”

Jorge cannot hold back his own moan this time. _‘I’ll be good for you.’ God. You’ll kill me._

“You want my hand so bad?”

“Yes.” Marc draws the word, despair making his voice squeaky.

Jorge lubes his hand a little more and closes it around Marc’s erection and this time, he doesn’t hold back and sets a good rhythm from the start, Marc sighing with relief at first before the sounds turn into needy moans. Jorge sees the struggle of holding still on his face, his nose scrunched up and his fingers clenched around his own wrists.

_Gorgeous._

He doesn’t last long and that’s good, because as Marc tenses, his come staining his stomach in thick white drops, Jorge is already moving to straddle his thighs, letting him close his legs finally, while Jorge opens his own jeans and shoves at his boxers impatiently.

_I cannot even…_

There are no words for what he feels, Marc shaking through the aftershocks beneath him, cock still twitching, chest heaving and his eyes slowly blinking up at Jorge, surprised to see him like this. It makes Jorge smirk, that almost shocked little reaction to seeing him jerk off over Marc’s body and Jorge’s held back for so long, he doesn’t need a minute before his come joins Marc’s on those well-defined abs.

“You’re so beautiful,” Marc mutters thoughtfully and really. Jorge’s going to _die_.

Jorge props himself up over him, steals a kiss, languid and tame, no heat left and then he takes a hold of Marc’s wrist and takes them to his mouth, kissing each before putting his arms down at his side and massaging them gently. “You’re a natural at this, you know.” He doesn’t miss that Marc’s cock, as spent as he must be twitches at this.

“You did most of that,” Marc whispers, one hand running through Jorge’s hair now and Jorge could purr from the touch.

“Really not.” He shakes his head and then stands up, zipping the jeans back up. “I’m just going to get a washcloth, okay?” Marc looked scared for an instant but relaxes at the explanation.

He whimpers again when Jorge wipes the come off his stomach and his cock and if he keeps that up, Jorge can go again like some teenager.

_Brining out the best in me, aren’t you?_

“Movie time?” He says when he comes back, his hands clean and he holds a hand out to pull Marc to his feet.

“Movie time.” Marc nods.

“Want to borrow those?” Jorge holds up a pair of black sweatpants and Marc slides into it with a grin.

“Gonna dress me to your taste from now on?”

Cheeky bastard. “Maybe.” Jorge winks and their fingers entwine when they walk down the stairs and Marc doesn’t even ask for a shirt and then they’re in the living room, the sunset bright pink in front of the floor length mirrors and making the entire room bathe in golden light, Marc’s torso included.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” Jorge mutters, eyes totally captivated and he feels Marc squeeze his hand.

“Me neither.”


	6. I won't let you be denied

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm having Sebchal writer's block because of a stupid anon - but on the bright side, that means I have more time for these two. Let me know if it gets too slow, I feel this is very, very detailed (I'm having fun with it, but I don't want to make all of you fall asleep by reading ♥)

The plan was to order food and pick a movie, but now Jorge can’t think anymore. Instead, he’s staring at Marc, literally salivating and ready to go again, which should be physically impossible. But Marc, being very Marc, has gone over to kneel on that pillow without as much as batting an eyelid about it, obviously having taken careful notes of everything Jorge said in the course of the day and Jorge is _losing it_.

He’s golden, and describing him as glowing doesn’t even cut it and Jorge feels a bone-deep pain of longing and wistfulness at the sight, the knowledge that it’s only a moment, that it’s not going to last the way they’ll want it to already a bitter aftertaste.

“Did I do anything wrong?” Marc asks after a moment, blinking at him or against the light that’s streaming in from the window behind Jorge and Jorge has to shake his head because he unlearned how to speak.

Instead, he half-closes the blinds and turns on the lighting behind his television, but even in the cooler light Marc is still looking like a statue and when his tongue pokes out to lick at his bottom lip nervously Jorge has grit, his teeth to stop himself from moaning.

_Fuck. You’ll be the death of me over and over again and then you’ll pack your bags on Sunday and you’ll travel home, and I’ll stand here all by myself and I think I’m just going to cry._

“Jorge?” Marc sounds worried now and Jorge realizes how dumb he must be looking, how uncomfortable he must be making Marc by staring.

“Sorry,” he forces the words out. “I’m just… you’re beautiful.” His own cheeks heat up at the words and he rubs his face. “I’m overwhelmed.”

“Oh.” Marc’s lips turn into a tiny smile. Not half as cocky as Jorge would have feared (or deserved). “Same.” The grin grows a little, but it’s still nothing but nice.

“Pizza?” Jorge takes out his phone and settles on the couch, Marc between his legs and looking up at him like an eager puppy.

“Pepperoni and extra cheese,” Marc says with a nod, his elbows leaning on Jorge’s knees and he must know how aroused Jorge is, his eyes pretty much at crotch-level, but he doesn’t comment, and Jorge is very grateful about the mercy.

“Anything you want,” he says with a pat to Marc’s head and then can’t hold back. “After all, you were such a good boy for me, weren’t you?”

He smiles at the way Marc’s eyes flash up.

_Works every time, huh?_

Shaking his head slightly, he types away on his phone to order at his favorite place then bickers with Marc about which movie they’re going to watch and has him turn around so he’ll actually see a thing. The way his head just automatically drops to rest on Jorge’s thigh is something and he’s clenching his fingers into the couch and a pillow right now because if he doesn’t he’ll end up touching Marc and it’s not going to stop at ruffling his hair.

The slightly surreal feeling of it all lingers, but when the movie takes up some speed and the pizza is sitting on the coffee table, Marc eating as if Jorge had starved him for several days, it gets more comfortable, more natural. They finish the wine from earlier, leaving Jorge slightly buzzed, but not to a point where he wouldn’t trust himself with this and Marc is a bit louder than earlier, cheerier, but also not seeming like their after-dinner-plans are in any danger.

There’s so much comfort in the fact that he’s not by himself at night for once, but he won’t tell Marc that part. Certainly not yet and probably not ever. That loneliness in his life, the slight jealousy he feels when he sees Marc surrounded by his family at race weekends while he mostly has to fend for himself isn’t to be shared.

Their conversation stalls when the credits roll, Marc suddenly quiet and Jorge feeling tense. His hand has started to rest on Marc’s shoulder a while ago but suddenly he is very aware of where their skin is touching and it’s making him anxious.

He can’t remember the last time he watched the credits up to the absolute end, but tonight, he does and only when the screen’s absolutely black does he reach for the remote and turns it off, Marc tensing visibly.

Jorge clears his throat. “We can just go back to my bed, if you’re more comfortable with that idea. You know that, right?”

Marc’s hair brushes Jorge’s arm when he nods. “I know. It’s really nice that you keep checking in.” Marc hesitates for an instant. “But I am sure, okay? Don’t get me wrong, I really, really want. I’m just nervous because I don’t know what to do. It’s so new.”

_Yeah. Okay, even for me, and I’ve actually done this before, it still feels overwhelming so I guess it’s a big thing for you. We'll need to talk about that tomorrow. About everything it's done to you._

“I don’t want to rush or pressure you,” Jorge’s hand runs through the soft mop of black hair, ruffling it a bit more and then Marc cranes his head and has the audacity to wink at him and Jorge feels the first wave of arousal return instantly.

“I like things fast, I don’t think you could rush me if you wanted to.”

_Unbelievable. You’re really unbelievable._

“Right.” Jorge shakes his head with a grin and then pushes himself to his feet, dragging Marc up with him. “So, you want to look, yeah?”

“Oh,” Marc squeezes his hand and chuckles. “I don’t just want to look.”

If they were a little further with this, Jorge would consider putting him over his knees and that wasn’t a good direction to think in because now the mental image has settled in his brain and he’s definitely ready to go again.

“Upstairs?” Marc asks, walking next to him with Jorge’s hand hooked in the waistband of the sweatpants possessively.

“Yeah, what were you expecting?”

“I don’t know. I guess the basement?”

Jorge laughs in earnest. “Sorry, but you have to show me the porn you watched one day.”

Next to him, Marc huffs indignantly. “Not when you’re making fun of me.”

When Jorge turns his head, he’s actually kind of pouting at him and it’s just too good, everything is too good when he gets to do it with Marc. “Not making fun of you. But let me show you, you’ll see why the idea of basement is kind of funny.”

It’s one of the supposed guest rooms, not overly big and not facing the lake but the woods. The blinds are closed anyway though. Unlike a basement, there’s nothing dark or gloomy, Jorge has the same light floorboards in all the rooms here and the furniture is darkish wood but not very massive, it’s still looking light with all the light grey walls. There’s a few black and white prints of animals hanging over the bed. And Marc is turning and looking and probably missing the dungeon feeling.

“I don’t understand,” he says quietly.

Jorge hugs him from behind, holding him against his chest and laces their hands on Marc’s bare abs, a shiver running down his spine when he feels Marc breathe against his hand. “See, the bed has a proper headboard and bedposts and if you watch closely, they have hooks, plenty of them. And that wall, next to the door to the bathroom? Look at it, the wood is not decoration, it’s for more hooks and the wooden beams aren’t for decoration. Even the chair isn’t just a chair.”

Marc is shuddering as he walks him through the room, points out little details and every once in a while Marc stops and reaches for a hook or runs his fingers over some wood, always thoughtfully and unlike his normal self, he's completely quiet.

The room has a walk-in closet which Jorge saves for last, the bathroom not really adventurous.

“Oh.” Marc stops in the doorframe and his eyes are wide, but a look at his crotch gives away that it’s pleasant surprise that he’s feeling. This is probably closest to what he was looking for, as the room holds, on shelves and hooks, the collection of toys Jorge has built up over the years. He also got a few things that are new, replaced some old things that he didn’t want Marc to use because Marc should have his own toys. But he’s not going to tell him, it would only pressure him into trying them and Jorge really wants Marc to be the one picking their path.

“You’ve been good throughout the movie and I keep my promises, you get to pick one thing which we’ll take back to the bedroom.”

_Don’t be crazy and take a whip or something like that._

Jorge prays that Marc for once will be reasonable about the speed at which they should or could move here. While Marc touches and explores, Jorge is holding his breath and willing away the sheer want to tie Marc to the bed immediately, the image of Marc’s fingers casually touching a plug, a paddle… handcuffs riling him up too the point where his own arousal becomes painful.

For a while, Marc looks like a kid in a candy store, but then his eyes fall onto something it seems and he’s stalking over to a shelf like a lion who smells his prey.

“These. I want to take these.”

_Okay._

Jorge’s throat constricts.

_I can work with that. I think._

“Are you sure?” Jorge eyes stare at the set of clamps, connected with a silver chain, dangling from Marc’s finger.

“Yeah.” There’s a huskiness in Marc’s voice that’s enough by itself to make Jorge shudder. “I… earlier. When you-“ Marc stops and looks away. _Cute, you’re embarrassed to say that, aren’t you? Maybe I can make you say it though?_ “I liked. That.”

On the one hand, the words go straight to his lap on the other hand, this is too much fun not to. “I’m sorry, what did you like?”

It’s so easy to walk over to where Marc is standing, tip up his chin to make his eyes meet Jorge’s and he’s squirming adorably, Jorge thinks.

“Jorge.” He draws out the 'e', whines. “No.”

“Hm.” Jorge takes the clamps from Marc’s hand and twists the chain between his fingers. “If you want to play with them, you’ll have to use your words though, won’t you?”

Holding his breath, Jorge watches Marc’s eyes dart between the silver chain and his eyes and then he’s licking his bottom lip again and Jorge grits his teeth once more today, fighting against the urge to moan.

“Ilikedwhenyoupinchedmynipple.” The words tumble out while Marc’s face turns all kind of shades of red and then he quickly stares at the floor, eyes squeezed shut. The sweatpants are still noticeably tented tough, so Jorge assumes there’s no damage done.

“Good, you did good, babe,” he whispers as he reaches out to caress Marc’s cheek, loves the way it makes Marc’s face light up despite himself. “Want me to take you to bed?”

Jorge doesn’t let him reply right away, steals a kiss first, making a point of pressing up close enough to let Marc know just how much this gets to him, too, and Marc’s eyes go a bit wide at the first contact but then he hums happily.

“You drive me wild,” he mutters, pulling away, Marc’s lips now glistening.

“Yeah.” Marc exhales shakily. “We can just take this bed,” he adds, looking over to the king size.

Jorge shakes his head. “No. Not yet.”

On the short way across the hallway, he has the clamps in one hand and the other’s in Marc’s borrowed pants, on his ass. And he can’t wait to try how he’d like being spanked if he’s being honest and it’s making him a little fuzzy, because it’s not what he usually aims for so early on. Or ever. But leaving a mark, a nice possessive handprint on Marc’s pristine skin is unnaturally tempting.

“Ready?” He asks, the bedroom door closing behind him and Marc proves himself by turning around in record time, devouring Jorge as if they hadn’t kissed for months at a time and then pulling away, leaving both of them breathless and Jorge with the taste of blood on his tongue.

_Not yet. Not ready._

He repeats it to himself like a mantra and one day, Marc will have to pay for all the self-control this day is taking from Jorge.

“I’m ready when you are,” Marc states cheekily and Jorge would seriously love to wipe that confidence of his face for once.

“Take off your pants.”

The way he schools his voice back to serious seems to do the trick though, Marc looking as if he sobered up a notch, fingers trembling as he folds the pants and puts them on a chair. At least, he looks a little nervous now.

“Lay down again, like you did this afternoon.”

“Okay.” Jorge watches as he gets settled and almost loses it when he automatically puts his hands above his head again, wrists crossed, and his legs splay open obediently.

“Fuck, you’re so good at that.” It’s out before Jorge can consciously think it through, just instincts taking over at the sight. “Keep your eyes closed.”

_Next time, we can try a blindfold. For now, I’m almost sure you’ll keep them shut either way. Amazing._

Jorge makes him wait, finally losing his own clothes, before he walks up to the bed and sits down on the edge. Marc will have noticed his presence by the way the mattress dips, but he still flinches when Jorge’s fingers ghost over his chest.

“You’re sensitive here, aren’t you?” His fingers circle a nipple and he watches closely, sees Marc’s abs clench, his cock twitch. “We’ll have to get them nice and hard, you know? Otherwise your little toy won’t stick.”

It’s beautiful, the responsiveness, the way Marc’s breathing gets all shallow and when Jorge thinks he’s done enough teasing (or might burst from his own withheld arousal) he takes the first clamp and lets it bite.

“Fuck.” That sounds more like a squealing animal than anything else, but Marc catches himself quickly, his hands, to Jorge’s infinite amazement, staying crossed above his head and eyes still shut. He’s breathing through his nose, face somewhat contorted.

“Good boy,” Jorge coos. It earns him a beautiful whine. “Let’s do the next.”

Now that he knows the pain, Marc’s more nervous it seems, whimpering even before Jorge’s attached the little torturous device. It’s lovely and Jorge can’t remember that he’s ever had so much fun with these games.

“It’ll get better in a moment,” he mutters, caresses Marc’s face again, steals a little kiss. Feels the devil inside him win when he looks at the way Marc still hasn’t moved his hands. “But you know, it’s mean, that little chain, because every time I pull it-“ Jorge yanks at it, Marc’s eyes flying open and a loud “Fuck” echoing through the room. “-every time I pull it, the pain will flare back up. So, I guess, you don’t want me to touch it too much, do you?”

“N-no.” Marc’s voice is shaky. “Please.”

“Why is that?”

“It hurts.”

“Mhm. Poor thing. So much pain. Let’s play it like this… I’m going to fuck you nice and deep now.” Jorge smiles at the desperate moan. “And you keep your hands still and your eyes shut and you ask nicely before you come. And as long as you behave, I keep my fingers around your cock and don’t touch the chain. Are you green with that?”

Marc’s entire body is shivering already as he nods. “Yeah. Green. Please, Jorge, I’m green, just fuck me.”

“Well, if you ask so politely. Who’d I be to deny you?”


	7. Masochist?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ♥ Thank you guys, sorry this took forever!

All his focus is on his own wrists, trying very desperately to keep them where they are while Jorge is pushing a first lubed finger inside him and his nipples feel like they’re on fire. It’s insane, letting someone hurt him purpose, right? But he’s so hard, so needy and Jorge’s hand feels so good, slick with Marc’s precome and languidly stroking him.

His breath comes in shallow little puffs and he knows his abs must be trembling visibly. Exposing everything for Jorge to see. Vulnerable. Not like he’d usually let his partners see him. Much less his opponents.

“You’re doing good, so tight for me.” The dirty talk isn’t new, the praise is though, and Marc can’t believe he needed twenty-six years to find out about this. And it’s not like nobody ever praised him before, but it strikes different when it’s _Jorge_ and it strikes different when it’s in situations like _this_ and it’s confusing but hell. Deep down, he feels a need to evaluate what’s happening, but with Jorge teasingly stroking up and down his cock, that’s not happening right now.

“More, please,” he whines before he grits his teeth as Jorge rubs over his prostate intently.

“No. Not yet.” He can hear the smile in Jorge’s voice without looking, which he’s apparently not allowed to do. It’s a bit… different with his eyes closed? Forcing him to focus more on himself. Kind of intimidating, but also making everything seem a bis sharper, each touch, each sound Jorge’s makes (and he _is_ humming approvingly and damned, it is doing things to Marc) and he also smells more, Jorge and his detergent and their joint arousal.

Above his head, his own fingers are itching more and more, because Jorge is so close, his breath hot against the skin of Marc’s stomach as he must be crouched up there and Marc shudders when he realizes how much he can _see_ there. Watch all of him. and Marc knows how he feels, hot to the touch, his skin soft and maybe already a bit sweaty… Marc can even imagine the contours of his muscles in every detail and bites back a moan.

“Can I touch you?” He asks breathlessly, squirming as Jorge pushes in another finger.

“No.” A soft chuckle and Marc pouts, earning him a quick kiss. “Not yet, pretty boy.”

_I guess that means my eyes stay shut, too?_

It’s a struggle, really, because he yearns for contact and this needs so much patience… Maybe he should reevaluate some of his choices?

“Please, more.” Maybe if he asks? His voice is on the verge of breaking, but he doesn’t quite care giving away his state of growing despair to Jorge as he’s seriously hoping for some mercy here.

“No.”

_Maybe asking won’t help then. I hate you so much._

Jorge keeps up that annoyingly slow rhythm, there’s still only two fingers and Marc is starting to wonder if he’s just going to explode here? What he doesn’t dare is letting go of his own wrists, maybe just touching Jorge, pulling him up for a kiss. It’s tempting, but for once, his nipples have mostly accommodated to the pinching, he doesn’t need that chain yanked eve again, and then – Marc doesn’t like failing a task.

_You’re so mean. I never knew you’d could be so cruel. What a sadistic bastard._

And oh, that’s not an insult Marc realizes. Not when they’re doing this… it’s more stating facts and it makes himself… what exactly?

“Jorge, please, it’s too much.” So not above begging. His hips jerk up on their own account suddenly, Jorge’s hand teasingly reaching for the chain.

It’s making Marc suck in a sharp breath in anticipation and when Jorge pulls the slightest bit, he grits his teeth and still whimpers pathetically.

“Too much? Shall I stop?”

_Vicious asshole._

Marc whines, because none of the words he wants to say will get him anywhere he supposes.

It’s with horror that he realizes that there’s tears gathering behind his closed eyes. Like his body has somehow decided to overreact? There’s no rational reason to cry here, but _damned_ , he’s desperate and somehow it feels so unfair and Jorge is being super mean and rubbing his prostate now.

“Fuck. Jorge. Please.” He shudders and his own nails are digging into his wrists painfully, his toes are curled enough to cramp, and his entire breathing is one big shudder. “WhatdoIhavetodotomakeyoufuckme?”

A first tear escapes, trickling down his skin and he winces, holding back a sob.

“Just be a good boy, nice and patient. I’ll get there.” Jorge’s hand moves back to his cock, still setting a rhythm that he can only describe as torturous. “You look so beautiful, you know, all your pretty muscles twitching for me and your nipples must be hurting so much, hm?”

The ‘good boy’ is ringing in his ears, making him want, crave so much more of that praise. And in a way, yes, his nipples are kind of hurting, but not in the way they did earlier. Of course, especially the tugging on the chain was painful, but now it’s just making him even hornier, that stinging pain, as if there’s a wire connection between the searing hotness and his cock?

_A masochist? Really?_

“Ah, you’re being so brave, aren’t you? Maybe it’s time we do reward you for your patience… though… we’ve not done a third finger yet, have we?”

“Go,” Marc groans, though he doesn’t dare moving his hips to accentuate the demand.

“Are you sure?” Demonic doesn’t even begin to describe the tone in Jorge’s voice and it goes straight to Marc’s cock, only making his neediness worse.

“Please.” It’s a proper sob and Marc would blush if he had the brain capacity left to realize what he’s doing.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

He whimpers when Jorge’s fingers withdraw and his other hand lets go of Marc’s cock. While he listens to the tell-tale sounds of a condom wrapper and the cap of a bottle of lube, he tries to calm his breathing from erratic to heavy. Success is mixed, especially when cool, slick hands spread him open.

“You can use colors or say stop if it’s too much, okay?” Jorge leans up, breath hot against Marc’s ear, kiss on Marc’s temple that makes him tremble, the gentleness sudden, unexpected. Overwhelming.

“Yeah.” Marc’s voice is hoarse but he’s proud he managed to say anything and then he mewls, Jorge pressing into him and maybe he wasn’t as ready and loose as he thought. “Fuck.”

“You’re such a good boy,” Jorge whispers straight into his ear, slightly tense and breathless now, too, and okay. The words are going to do the trick it seems. “So good for me.”

Things get fuzzy afterwards, clear thinking ceasing. Later, he remembers feeling a mix of despair, pain and pleasure, almost his entire focus on Jorge’s hand on his cock and barely even noticing that Jorge fucked into him. The moment he gets back to himself, he’s just coming all over his stomach, pleasure making him fly sky high and there’s a scream echoing through the room that apparently comes from his throat, but he doesn’t quite remember and there’s not enough air.

When he slowly scans his body for damage, almost like after a crash, his cheeks are wet and his arms tremble from holding the position and the pain in his nipples returns, too, the distraction missing. Overall, there’s just tiredness and strain. But he notices how he’s still spread, how Jorge feels too big to bear and then Jorge’s pushing in earnest again and he sees stars.

“Fuck, Jorge, stop.” Marc wants to start shoving and all that happens is that Jorge does pull the chain, making him cry out.

I hate you.

At least, he doesn’t say it out loud, but he can’t stop the tears from falling again, can’t hold back the whimpering. He wants to curl up in a ball, but Jorge is having none of it, pinning his shoulders down now.

“Color?” The way he can be rough, mean, cruel and then form one instant to the next, he’s whispering into Marc’s ear, voice all soft and gentle, like a switch flicked, it’s confusing Marc.

“Gr-green.” He presses it out with some effort and Jorge hums and thrusts in again, hitting his oversensitive prostate and okay.

“Yellow.” He takes a shuddering breath. “Yellow, fuck.”

_Too much. Too soon._

Stars are dancing in front of his eyes and Jorge wipes a few tears from his cheek. Marc can’t even imagine how much self-control the guy needs to actually be stopping this now.

“You want to stop?”

_It’s amazing how I’m sure you actually would. And it’s unbelievable that you even could. Hold back. Now. Didn’t think I’d say that but I’m impressed, Lorenzo._

“N-no,” Marc shakes his head. “You… you can keep… keep going. Green.”

“Thank goodness.” Jorge growls, nuzzling his face into Marc’s shoulder as he starts thrusting again and Marc smiles despite himself at the words.

It’s not too long after that, Jorge obviously going for a quick finish. And it’s nice to not be responsible for anything then, just staying splayed on that bed while Jorge takes care of cleaning up. Marc hears him walk around and squeaks a bit when he’s cleaning him, but overall, he’s comfy, especially when Jorge takes his wrists and rubs them again, massages his arms, puts them into a better position.

“Grit your teeth, this is going to be uncomfortable,” he says, his fingers on Marc’s nipples.

It can’t be worse than yanking the chain, Marc thinks – until it is and he’s _howling_.

“Sh, only a moment.”

Jorge’s fingers rub and then his tongue licks and bit by bit, Marc’s chest stops heaving.

“Fuck. That’s terrible.”

“Warned ya.” Jorge chuckles and the mattress dips as he probably puts them away. Marc hears metal clatter from somewhere in the room.

“Are you okay?” Jorge is sitting next to him, propped up against the headboard, one hand in his hair. “Oh, and you can open your eyes, you know.”

“Yeah.” Marc tries, but his lids are too heavy to look at Jorge for longer, he just smiles lazily.

“You looked amazing, you realize that?”

“I wish I could say the same,” Marc yawns and puts a hand on Jorge’s thigh with some effort. “But someone wouldn’t let me look.”

There’s a chuckle from above him. “You’re very disciplined, you know?”

“Uh, sometimes.” His mother wouldn’t agree, Marc knows.

“But you didn’t ask for permission before you came. Good boys ask, you know?”

It’s a spark of hurt, really, he doesn’t like making mistakes. But he also thinks it’s rather unfair.

“You didn’t exactly leave me coherent.” Marc pouts and turns on his side, pulling on Jorge to lay down with him finally. “Need sleep.”

“Talk over breakfast?”

There’s sure stuff to talk and he should probably think about what the fuck happened today but right now, it seems an impossibly talk.

“Yes, please.” Marc isn’t above begging. He’s drained and tired and his eyes are falling closed against his will.

“Okay,” Jorge sounds soft, very soft. It’s making Marc feel fuzzy again and then then he’s turning off the light and finally cuddling up to him, Marc shivering but feeling the heat radiate from Jorge’s skin to his own. “You… I just wanted you to know that it feels so good to have you here. To know you’ll be there in the morning.”

Butterflies. All the butterflies.

“I, uh.” Don’t say it. Not yet. Don’t say it yet.

Marc sighs softly and lets Jorge’s touch wash over him. “I’m glad I’m here, too.”


	8. Let's do this!

The light filters in through a gap in the blinds where he hadn’t fully closed them the night before and it leaves a hot, white stripe on top of the sheets. And on Marc’s back and Jorge is sitting against the headboard without remembering for how long, just staring down at him and itching to touch. It’s not the first time ever that they’re waking up together, but it’s the first time that’s not happening in a hotel room. It’s in his very own bed.

_I still can’t believe you’re here._

Marc is stirring now, the sheets rustling and then he’s turning his head, craning it upwards, beautiful brown eyes opening slowly.

“Staring is rude, you know.” Marc pouts before dropping his head back on the pillow.

“Good morning to you, too,” Jorge chuckles and caresses Marc’s cheek, happy when he leans into the touch like a needy little kitten.

When he thinks about it, Jorge realizes that in this particular house of his… nobody ever spent the night in his bed. Ever since he moved here, if he had a partner he slept with, it was casual, maybe even a one-off, taking place in hotels or at the very best in his motorhome. Random and at times almost anonymous. It’s been a while since he’s done something like _this_ and his heart swells a little.

_And with you of all people._

They get to roll around lazily, morning breath ignored because kissing Marc is always good, and they rut against each other like horny teenagers until they’re a sticky mess and taking a shower before breakfast is an obligation instead of an option.

_I could get used to this._

That’s the danger though, he realizes. Getting used to something he’ll not be allowed to have all the time.

“Want croissants for breakfast? It’s just a short walk,” he suggests when they’re both dressed, Marc’s hair still damp and ruffled and Jorge could just undress him on the spot, but he’s heard Marc’s stomach rumbling and knows the guy needs to be fed if you don’t want him to get nasty. Also, Jorge is well aware that they need to talk and that he will have to be the one to bring it up and lead it, even if he dreads it and would walk to a bakery on the other end of town to stall this just a bit more.

“Croissants?” Marc’s entire face lights up and Jorge wonders if he should be jealous of baked goods maybe. “Yes!”

It’s a pleasant day out, late spring meaning the mornings are still somewhat cool but everything looks fresh and in bloom and the sun is already out and promising a beautiful rest of the day. On the way down the narrow street, Marc’s hand slides into his naturally and Jorge holds his breath, staring at their entwined fingers. He’s not sure he’s ever had anything like this with a man.

Switzerland is tolerant and very private, he is neither afraid of paparazzi nor of rude comments. He’s just realizing that there’s commitment and domesticity of a sort he thought he’d only ever share with a woman and maybe he hasn’t figured things out that well.

Marc however seems not to care, their hands swinging between them as his head drops against Jorge’s shoulder with a happy little sigh.

“This is a beautiful place,” he says cheerily, “you sure picked a good home.”

“Yeah,” Jorge replies, his voice hoarse, and his gaze is still locked on their hands.

Marc’s eyes go impossibly wide inside the bakery resulting in more than just the two croissants Jorge wanted to get them, but how to resist those puppy dog eyes?

And he chatters away on the short trip back home, his voice adorable and Jorge could so easily make a habit out of this.

When they’re back in the kitchen, Marc gets two mugs, just like the day before and suddenly falls silent, eyeing them almost suspiciously, before deliberately sitting down on the chair Jorge pointed him to the day before.

_You want to be a good boy, don’t you?_

Jorge feels the heat pool in his own lap, Marc looking at him with a raised eyebrow and pleading eyes and he swallows before he walks over, putting down some orange juice and then he ruffles Marc’s hair.

“Good boy, you learn very fast.”

His breath hitches when he sees the way Marc’s pupils dilate before Marc lowers his head and looks at his plate.

_Fuck. Responsive isn’t even close to what you have going on._

He needs to stay focused, Jorge tells himself, because the conversation they need to have should happen without a boner. It’s supposed to be grown up, serious, matter of fact. Setting boundaries and safety nets is not supposed to be foreplay.

Some of the tension changes from sexual to dread when they start eating, both suddenly silent and Jorge feels how his pulse is picking up speed.

_This is ridiculous. I’ve done this before, you’re obviously not easily scared off. We just have to start._

“So, about yesterday,” he starts, setting his coffee down and Marc ruefully swallows the rest of his croissant and nods. “We have to discuss.”

“I- can you… tell me what you need to know? I don’t know what we’re doing, to be honest.”

“Well, for a start, how did you feel?”

Marc’s face turns deep red. “You know how I felt.”

“I’m not trying to torture you, but it just kind of matters what exactly you liked, you know.”

“I- I liked everything.” Marc is not looking at him and Jorge thinks it’s kind of cute.

_You weren’t that shy last night._

“Even when I pulled on the chain?”

At that, Marc buries his face in his hands. From somewhere beneath, he hears him mutter “Maybe” and it makes Jorge chuckle softly.

“Okay… so. Like. You want to do that more, right?” When he started messing around with Marc, this wasn’t even on the agenda and although it’s one of Jorge’s favorite ways of having sex, in order to have Marc he’d go without it forever. But ever since he has the notion that it might after all be on the menu with Marc, he’s going insane about the idea and so he’s now holding his breath as he waits for a reply.

Slowly, Marc reemerge from where he was hiding behind his hands and looks at him, adorably shy, but also with the darkest eyes ever. “Y-yes. I want.”

“Okay.” Jorge tries not to be too cheery. It’s supposed to be no pressure and if it turns out Marc likes it less than he imagines to right now, they can always stop, and he doesn’t want Marc to feel bad about that. “Are you thinking more in terms of playing kinky every once in a while or,” Jorge coughs as his voice threatens to give in, “or would you like to see it more as a lifestyle. With the things like kneeling or so more frequently. With rules.”

The silence hangs heavy as Marc turns to stare out of the window and Jorge thinks it’s a little insane how they’re in such a dark corner of his mind while the sun is out and the lake is glistening, sets of white sails visible in the distance.

“What about you?” Marc asks eventually and a cold shiver runs down Jorge’s spine.

_Well. Better be honest._

“I, uh… well, don’t feel pressured, please, it’s not a must or anything, it’s good without, too, but I, uh, I like… if it’s permanent.” The words tumble out rushed and Marc nods thoughtfully.

“You like being in charge.”

_I like taking care of you and I want to see if you trust me enough to let me take care of you. Give you what you need._

“Yeah, I guess. But it’s only on if _you_ want to try.”

“I do.” Jorge reminds himself not to cheer. “I just have no idea how it works.”

“We’ll just do it step by step, don’t worry. There’s uh… there’s those questionnaires you can fill out to see who wants to try what. I think we should do that, then I’ll know what you’re interested in.”

They're pretty long these lists and they'll also buy Jorge time. Important time to get his own head around what's just happened, what Marc just offered on a silver plate. 

_I could make you mine._

“Okay.” Marc doesn’t sound convinced, but he doesn’t sounds taken aback either. Just a bit unsure if or how that’s supposed to work and well, he’ll see when Jorge has printed something for them.

“But, uh, before we go on with anything. We have the colors but with the porn you watched you probably heard of safewording?”

“Sure.”

“You need one, something you would never say during sex.”

At first, Marc nods thoughtfully once again and then suddenly, Jorge hears the darkest cackle ever and raises his eyebrows. “What is it?”

“I don’t have to think about that any longer. I’ve got one. Uccio.”

Maybe it’s childish, but it’s sure making Jorge join in the laughter. “Not bad, Marquez,” he says, slightly breathless. “Not bad. We can work with that.”

“Good.” Marc grins and it was good, sharing a laugh, some of the tension draining.

“Why did you pick the clamps?” Jorge empties his coffee, shuddering since it’s gone cold and nasty in the meantime.

“I already told you. I liked when you… when… I.” Marc turns away and Jorge catches his cheeks turn pink again.

“You liked that kind of pain?”

“Do you think I’m crazy?” Marc turns around to face him, looking at a complete loss.

“No. Why would I?”

“It’s not normal, is it? Wanting someone to hurt me? Enjoy it?”

_I have to remember that this is completely new for you. Of course, you’re confused._

“It’s… well, do you remember that as a kid, you’d pick on your scabs or press down on bruises just to explore that pain?”

Marc nods carefully and Jorge continues. “See, it’s not that unnatural. There’s those rites of self-flagellation that are as old as time… it’s not as unnatural as society today wants you to think about it.”

There’s a flicker of recognition on Marc’s face as he nods, looking a bit more confident now. “I see.”

“So. You said enjoy.” Jorge feels his pants get tight, the memories from the night before resurfacing a little too vividly, Marc’s pained mewling ringing in his ears. “Did you enjoy that pain? Even if I yanked?”

“I,” Marc looks away again. Jorge understands though. It’s making him very vulnerable and he thinks it’s really brave that Marc is going through this with him at all. “It’s weird. It really hurts, but when it’s not hurting that badly, the pain makes me horny. And even, even when you yanked that chain. I mean, that wasn’t making me horny anymore, that was too much pain, but it still didn’t make me want to stop. Does that make sense?”

“Yeah,” Jorge croaks, shifting in his chair. “Completely. Want me to print out one of those things, go over the menu so to speak?”

He needs the distraction, otherwise he’ll end up fucking Marc on the kitchen table. Especially if Marc keeps looking so self-conscious, tongue poking out to lick his lips and fingers fidgeting with the coffee mug.

“Yeah, okay.” Marc looks at him expectantly. Waiting for what’s next.

“I’ll be back in a second.”

Marc hasn’t moved when Jorge returns from his hasty mission to the printer, not even embarrassed that he’d saved a checklist that he deemed helpful on his phone days before Marc’s visit, only waiting to be printed.

“That’s… Jorge, that thing has seven pages.” Marc looks at him with eyes as wide as saucers and starts reading, then looks back at him with his eyes even wider. “And I don’t know half of the stuff.”

“I guess that’s not what porn showed you, is it?” He grins and sits down next to Marc, the pages between them and his arm around Marc’s waist possessively. He needs to take a breath and wait for the wave of heat to pass that he feels at making Marc belong.

“No, I guess not.” Marc sounds shy and amused at the same time.

“Let’s go over it together. I’ll explain the things you don’t know and we’ll mark what you want to try, what you find disgusting and what you don’t have an opinion on yet, okay?”

“What about you?” Marc cocks his head.

_In all honesty, I’d give everything to do this with you and I couldn’t care less about the details but yeah. What about me?_

“I don’t want you to try things just because I said I like them. We can look at that way, way later when you’ve made some steps and decided if you’re comfortable. For now, I’ll only cross out the few things that I really, really couldn’t bring myself to do, that okay?”

Marc considers him for a moment and Jorge would love to know what’s going on behind those brown eyes. “Sure, sounds good. Let’s do this.”


	9. Baby

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel obliged to mention that this is set in 2019, alas before Jorge... Well. Went insane.

"Okay, but you cross out your stuff first?”

Marc looks at the pages and pages, full of words, and pushes them over to Jorge’s side.

“You think so?”

“Yeah. Please.”

Jorge has mercy on him and takes a green pen to cross a few things. If Marc counted correctly, it’s only three lines though.

_Shit. There’s so much left._

He chews on the end of his pen, a blue one, and then Jorge pushes the pages back into a heap and then between them.

“Let’s start on the top.”

It starts simple enough, with a few things like hand jobs or blow jobs, really nothing that they weren't pretty much doing already anyway. Except the parts where technically... more than one cock is necessary... because... double penetration? _Yikes._ He can't imagine and he's surprised Jorge hasn't crossed it, but okay. He does cross it out determinedly.

Next chapter? Block? Whatever. Topic probably. It's restraints and yeah, okay, starts innocent enough and Marc won't mind handcuffs or some rope. It doesn't continue that way though.

“Mummification?” Marc all but squeaks and Jorge giggles. "Straight jackets? Jorge!"

“Again, just cross it right off if you don’t like it. We can always revisit later if you change your mind and get curious.”

Marc feels flustered and crosses right through it while shaking his head. Jorge’s having too much fun here anyway, sitting there next to him, head propped up on his hand to watch him and smiling all the time.

It’s worse than being told about the babies by his parents, this conversation, where every second word is so dirty, he thinks he needs someone to scrub his mind clean.

“Jorge, that’s… horse bits?”

“You’ve not seen that in the porn?”

“Noooo.” Marc wants to die. In fact, he thinks he never craved to die so much in his entire life.

“Baby, just cross off what you don’t want, it’s really fine with me.” The words make him freeze on the spot. _Baby. Wow. That’s new._ His fingers tremble when he crosses out yet another line.

He's relieved to see watersports are crossed out already and so are enemas and tries not to read too much into the fact that Jorge has not crossed out any of the things that included "public". He wouldn't have thought that of him, but oh well, too bad, Marc is very diligent about crossing out every thing that includes extra people.

And he does not miss the way Jorge's eyes light up when he leaves all the restriction and rule ideas as a possibility, though he was hesitating over washroom restrictions for a moment. He gives it a question mark in the end. The spanking deserves a "must try" rating. And then there's still more pages to go through and seriously, people actually do that, don't they?

Seven pages is a lot to go through and Marc is very red, very horny and very uncomfortable when he pushes the last page away, puts the pen down and stares at the table.

“Regretting your choices?” Jorge’s voice is softer, not like he’s making fun of him or anything anymore and his arm is around Marc’s shoulder. The touch feels nice. Comforting.

“Maybe a little,” he answers with a sigh. “I feel violated by some of these things.”

“It’s overwhelming, hm?”

That’s a good description of how he’s feeling, Marc thinks.

“Yes.”

“Well, it’s still kind of early, so we have time until lunch. You want to go back to the PS4? Take your mind off?”

_Yes._

He literally runs for the living room, not even waiting for Jorge, but he does take the pillow. It seems fitting after he just basically agreed to what? Do this all the time? Never sit on Jorge’s sofa ever? The train of thought makes him freeze again, staring blankly out of the window.

“Hey, you okay?” Jorge ruffles his hairs and flops down on the couch, his legs settling on either side of Marc.

It shouldn’t feel so damned good, should it? But it’s like he has a shield? That’s insane though and he can’t stop his body from shuddering.

“Hey?” Jorge’s voice is somewhere between soft and concerned, his hand against Marc’s cheek and he leans against it, desperately. “You’re a good boy, you know. I’m really proud you remember your place.”

His cock twitches. He’ll get hard in not time and that’s despite the freak out he’s experiencing, despite the white-hot rush of panic inside him telling him he has to be crazy.

“Color?” Jorge puts a hand on his shoulder now, weighing down. It works strangely well, grounding him enough to at least answer.

“Green.” It comes out automatically. “I think?”

“You unsure? Maybe it’s yellow and we need to talk?”

“I. I don’t know.” Marc feels like he’s at such a complete loss here.

“Forget about the game, okay? Come up on the couch and let me help you.”

Up on the couch. Marc feels weird about kneeling on the pillow and at the same time, he’s wary about sitting up on the couch and he ends up half pushed up on Jorge’s thighs, eyes darting restlessly between the floor and the sofa until Jorge has mercy on him and pulls him up, into his lap, until they’re both cuddled up in the corner.

It’s nice, really, his back against Jorge’s chest, Jorge’s mouth close enough to his ear that he can feel the hot puffs of air on his exhales. Their hands laced and folded under his hoodie, resting against his stomach.

“Want to tell me?”

“I think it’s too much?”

Jorge hums approvingly. “I can imagine. We’re in no hurry, remember? I’m happy to just have you here to be honest and this is good, too.”

“Nice, yeah.” Marc nods. Jorge’s hoodie smells nice and he’s comfortable and it’s a good way to spend Saturday morning. Absolutely. They stay silent and he just keeps staring over the terrace out towards the lake, watches the white sails go past.

“Do you think we can cycle along the like in the afternoon?” It seems like it could be pretty.

“Sure. We could also go now and eat out? There’s a nice Italian place we could eat at and then we put in some more miles?”

“Are you… sure? People could see us.”

Jorge goes rigid under him and Marc’s stomach twists.

“I don’t know,” Jorge mutters, “generally, I’ve not experienced that here. Only in Spain. But if it happened, would it be an issue for you?”

Would it? Eating with his teammate? They’d get a few headlines about it, no doubt. Would it matter?

“No, it’s okay.” He pushes himself to his feet. “Let’s go then.”

Physical activity works way better to distract him than their attempt at video games and after a while, he chats with Jorge about the city and the region and it feels a lot better. Obviously, pasta for lunch isn’t bad either and all throughout the meal, their discussion revolves around bicycles and routes in the mountains that they could try together one day. Just pleasant planning, non-sexual.

It’s reassuring that there’s not just sex between them. Not that Marc minds that part of their relationship, absolutely not. Jorge’s hot as hell and that newly found kink of his? Worth exploring. But yeah, with the whole invitation to Switzerland and all the domesticity of actually staying at Jorge’s place, Marc can’t help hoping. Can’t help himself from wanting, craving a little more of this. For the longest time he’d thought this would be impossible, with a guy, leave along with Jorge. And now there’s hope and it’s still fragile and a bit too new, but yeah, being able to do these normal couple things they’re doing right now? Good start!

It makes him giddy on the way back and then they’re back at Jorge’s house and it feels like a few things feel into place out there.

_No hurry. Just trying out a few things, so really, no reason to worry, right? And I think… I’m more curious than nervous now._

In the back of his head, he realizes just how responsible Jorge had been acting earlier, clarifying every step with him.

_Picked the right guy._

“Shower together, talking about earlier today afterwards?” Jorge holds the door open, all gentleman-like and Marc nods and laughs.

“Think we’ll get any cleaner then?”

Jorge swats his ass lightly, but that’s okay, he pokes out his tongue and tells him he’s expecting more of that soon anyway, finally making Jorge blush.

There’s no rules or restrictions about any of it, at least not yet, and so Marc takes the freedom to rip off both of their clothes and backs Jorge straight against the shower tiles, ignoring that the water’s still a bit on the cool side. For now, mission devouring Jorge is on.

After a while of sloppy kissing and rutting, there’s a hand in his hair, grip tightening and it only takes a few seconds before Marc realizes where it’s going, settling on his knees.

“Good boy,” Jorge says, and Marc can’t deny the way it’s making him twitch. Again. “Open your mouth, baby.”

The pet name. The order. It’s a lot to take in, all the little sparks of excitement, need, love? He shudders. _Too early, not allowed to go there yet._

Jorge is heavy on his tongue, his grip on Marc’s hair ruthless. It’s an appetizer, Marc guesses, to what this could be like in the long run, the way Jorge just makes him take it, doesn’t allow him to move. There’s tears in the corners of his eyes and he has to gag several times, the worst being when Jorge comes without warning, forcing himself down Marc’s throat and what should feel like an aggression, should make him panic, only leads to him spreading his knees a little wider, whining deep in his own throat, eyes squeezed shut as he waits for Jorge to finally let him catch some air.

He’s coughing then, probably not a sexy sight, helplessly collapsed on the floor and Jorge waits a moment before he pulls him back on his feet, kisses his nose and pats his back.

“You took that so well, so good for me.” Marc’s not really feeling conscious, mostly spaced out, but the words go to his crotch anyway, make him moan.

Jorge turns him in his hold like putty, until he’s got his back against Jorge’s chest again, eyes closed, head on Jorge’s shoulder “You’re so needy,” Jorge’s hand closes around him, making him whine. “Are you desperate, baby?”

Jorge strokes him agonizingly slow and Marc’s knees buckle, enough that he’d be on the ground if it wasn’t for Jorge’s hold.

“Please.” It’s the last word he remembers forming.

“So eager, hm, such a little slut.” Marc’s cheeks go up in flames, but he doesn’t fight, doesn’t talk back, preoccupied with Jorge’s fingers sliding over his cock. “Always hard for me, aren’t you?”

“Jorge, please,” he repeats, tries bucking into Jorge’s hand, but it’s pointless, Jorge just stops moving altogether.

“No,” Jorge warns, his voice gone from seductive to cold. “You’re not deciding about that here. If you can’t stay still, you’re not getting a reward.”

A reward. Marc briefly wonders if he’ll have to earn every orgasm from now on and then shudders when Jorge’s fingers resume moving.

“I don’t like pushy behavior,” Jorge muses, his hand still way too slow. Marc’s eyes are rolling back in his head as he tries to stay with Jorge, to not pass out from everything.

It’s increasingly difficult, noting his surroundings, the warm water running over him, Jorge’s touch, Jorge’s heartbeat, the sounds of his own mewling ringing in the room as his toes curl again and again.

After a felt eternity, Jorge shifts his rhythm somewhat and Marc has long resigned himself to just taking anything that’s on over, feels too weak to push or ask for anything, he just takes and whines and then feels himself go absolutely rigid.

_Fuck. I was supposed to ask you._

There’s a split-second where his mind is clear and full of panic but then he’s coming over Jorge’s hand and collapses against him, needing every bit of support.

“Oh, baby. I really thought you’d be better at remembering.” Jorge sounds disappointed and it hurts more than Marc would have thought, the idea of failing, of letting him down. Of not doing everything perfectly on the first try.

He’s limb and pliant in Jorge’s hold then, conflicting feelings overwhelming him yet again and in his helplessness, he just lets him wash them down and towel them dry and then he’s standing there with a towel around his waist and his eyes on the floor, not feeling as high as he should be after what was in fact a pretty incredibly handjob.

“What am I going to do with you, hm? Such a naughty boy, always forgetting to ask for permission.” Jorge is practically purring, ruffling his hair. He looks fresh and sexy in his loose black sweatpants and his voice and his naked chest are doing the rest, Marc thinking he might be in too deep soon enough again. “It’s like you’re asking to be punished, you know?”

It’s a surprise for himself when it makes him shiver in anticipation, the word, if spoken in that manner, so husky, so dirty… it’s tempting.

Not lifting his head from where he’s staring at the floor tiles, he gathers his courage, only in the very back of his head wondering if he’s truly gone mad. “Yes, please. Jorge, please.”


	10. Ice, Ice, Baby

_Fuck._ He let his mouth run away a bit and now they're moving too fast. They’re supposed to talk first and what does he do with it now? With his cock taking interest, with Marc obediently asking for punishment. With his dominant instincts threatening to explode.

Too late anyway, Marc is standing there with his head bowed and it doesn’t look like he’s just shy or resigned, it looks like he knows he messed up and is ready to face the consequence and that makes so many emotions rage inside Jorge, the way his stomach is in knots is unbearable.

“Really?” He wants to give a last way out, prays Marc will be the one to put a stop to it, fears they’re way too quick.

“Please.” Just a repetition. And it doesn’t sound like there’s any doubt.

_Though… you will hate it when you realize you will not get what you want me to do._

There’s only so much he can hold back though.

“Put the towel away and stand in the shower,” he snaps, Marc flinching at the sound but still folding his towel before putting it away like the good boy he apparently is and it makes Jorge twitch again.

“Stay there, I will be back in a moment.”

If Marc is surprised, he hides it well enough, just standing in his pot in front of the shower again, gorgeous as ever with some droplets slowly running from his hair down to his collarbone and Jorge would love to lick them up and also, he now officially has the attention span of a squirrel.

Supplies, he reminds himself and trots away, his mind mapping out the next steps on the go.

He hasn’t done this to anyone for a long time, but he remembers doing it a few times and it seems to match the crime and also, it’s uncomfortable but not too bad. For Marc, it’s mainly going to be a disappointment, because Jorge’s pretty sure what Marc wants is to be put over his lap. Something about that caught Marc’s attention and though he’s not pushing too much, it kind of shows. Well, giving him something he craves as a punishment wouldn’t be a good start.

“Okay,” he says in a decisively cheery tone when he gets back to the bathroom, smiling widely, “I found what I need.”

Jorge is careful to drop everything in plain sight and loves the way Marc’s face scrunches up in confusion, his eyes going wide.

“What are you going to do?”

_Aw, nervous. Like you should be._

“First, I need you to put these on.” Jorge hands him two pairs of boxer briefs and Marc scowls.

“Uh, that’s two.” He’s holding one in each hand and seems to think Jorge made a mistake. _Cute._

“I meant what I said.” Just explaining would be too easy, Jorge thinks after Marc’s been begging, literally begging for this, he deserves to be grilled a bit more.

After one more look that clearly says Marc thinks he’s insane, Marc very hesitantly puts on both shorts and Jorge is happy to see they fit super snug. Well, he kind of new, because he’s aware of how indecently Marc likes to pick his underwear, the little show-off.

“Are you green with using these?” Jorge lets the handcuffs dangle from his finger and studies Marc face carefully, the instant of shock followed by his pupils darkening and his Adam’s apple bobbing.

“Yes.”

The huskiness in his voice is going to kill Jorge many, many times. And he’s surprised how much his own fingers are shaking when he takes Marc’s wrists, the pulse quickening under his touch, and restrains him. Marc Marquez, in handcuffs and he willingly, pliantly, allows him to raise his arms and thread the cuffs through the floor-length towel warmer thingy before closing the cuff around his other wrist.

 _Fuck._ Jorge’s pants are super obviously tented, and he can’t take it eyes off, Marc stretched out, arms raised, chest heaving a little irregularly… and then he’s licking his lips and Jorge barely, very barely bites back a moan.

_I’m dead. So dead._

“Still green?” _Oh my god, my voice. I won’t be able to speak._

At least, Marc seems so focused on himself, that he doesn’t notice Jorge almost coming in his pants. “Yes, green,” Marc mutters and then looks questioningly at the last item Jorge brought back.

It’s a bag of ice cubes and by now, it’s been out of the freezer just long enough for this to not burn Marc’s skin or anything.

“So, you know, this is ice as you must have noticed and since your cock has not understood the rules of this house at all as it seems, I feel that I need to teach it a lesson.”

Jorge walks closer, slides a finger between the two briefs, and pulls one back a little and he can tell the exact moment Marc realizes, because…

“Jorge, what the fuck?” Marc moves hastily, cuffs rattling.

“You wanted to be punished.”

“But I thought… I though that meant.” Marc looks so stricken, so scared now, Jorge regrets _everything._

“Yeah, I know what you thought,” he says softly, brushing over Marc’s torso with one hand and stealing a kiss. “You thought I’d put you over my knee and spank you, didn’t you?”

Marc evades his gaze, but he nods.

“Well, as I said already, it’s not a punishment if you enjoy it. Or if you want it. Do you understand?”

Jorge goes back to pulling on the briefs and waits while Marc stares at the opposite wall.

_I’m pretty sure you’re blinking away some tears and damned, you’re going to hurt my heart so much one day, won’t you?_

“Yeah,” Marc nods finally. “I understand.”

“So, can we go ahead?”

Seconds pass, Jorge’s heart pounding. He’ll drop this any second if Marc doesn’t want to. But he knows his teammate… he’ll be too ambitious to let it go.

“Yes. I’m green.” Marc nods and turns to look at him, follows his movements as Jorge’s other hand picks up the ice – and pours.

“Woah, fuck, you asshole,” Marc groans and the curses just keep coming, for every bit of ice settling between the two layers of cotton Jorge learns a new insult.

_I want to work on that language of yours… god, how I’d love to teach you to be quiet and accept your fate like a good boy._

They’ve not made rules about it though and Jorge feels it would be unfair to bring it up now, this is just about bad enough, Marc shaking, squirming and the handcuffs rattling.

“Sh,” he says and kisses Marc’s cheek when all the eyes is trapped, the boxer briefs very slowly starting to soak. “I will leave them until they’ve melted, so you learn that you better be a good boy and ask the next time. But you can always say red or use your safeword, you understand that?” Jorge steps back.

Marc is shaking but he nods. “I g-get it,” he says, teeth already chattering slightly.

“You’re a good boy, taking your punishment. Very good,” Jorge whispers, caressing Marc’s cheek very gently, before stepping back and sitting on the edge of the tub.

Marc’s lips curled into a smile when he praised him and yeah, okay, after all, Jorge might be doing the right thing. It’s harsh and certainly a dire lesson, but at the same time, the way Marc is responding, it might be just what he needed.

“I h-hate you.” And that’s one of the nicer things Jorge hears while he watches Marc struggle. It takes a while, it’s not a quick punishment at all. He keeps asking if Marc is green, just in case, and every once in a while, he steps up to him, kisses him and tells him how impressed he is, how well Marc is doing and it works amazingly well with Marc, no matter how desperate he seems, praise makes him relax noticeably, makes him smile.

When it’s getting closer to the end, Marc’s breath comes quicker though and Jorge senses he’s fighting a lot, bottom lip bitten, eyes squeezed shut.

It wouldn’t be fair to end it against Marc’s will though. Jorge hopes the guy is grown up enough to safeword if he has to. At least, as nasty as this is, it’s not dangerous.

Still, he’ll at least make it a bit easier, he thinks.

“You’re doing very well, baby,” he purrs, kissing Marc’s neck and this time, he wraps around him, ignoring that the cold, wet patch is pressing against his front now, too, and he kisses Marc breathless, rubs his back soothingly, litters his throat and chest with kisses, too. “So brave, aren’t you?”

Marc whines and shudders and Jorge thinks it’s enough.

“Okay, baby, let’s get you warm.”

Marc looks at him through glassy eyes and nods. “Thank you.”

The way he says it… it’s doing things to Jorge again. Because. _Have you hit subspace? You’re… more than just a bit pliant._

Marc lets him take care willingly, finally not making any sounds, Jorge taking away the soaked boxers and putting them away to dry. There’s one thing he can’t resist trying though and he stalks up to Marc, looks him up and down sternly and then presses against his throat.

“Such a pity, huh? So tiny. Useless.” He keeps his eyes on Marc’s face, watches what the humiliation does to him, notices the pink spots that come almost immediately and the way his breath hitches.

_Mhm. I think… we’re onto something._

For now, that’s enough testing the waters though and he unlocks the cuffs, checks Marc’s wrist for damage, kisses them gently before he lets Marc sag against him.

“Cuddle up in bed and nap some or talk some?”

“Yeah.” Marc sounds weak and he needs Jorge to support him to the bed it seems, his legs wobbly.

Jorge drops his pants which are damp in the front now, too, and then wraps both of them in the sheets, warming Marc’s lap with his hands while he snuggles up to him from behind.

“You still with me?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you want me to get you a tea? Maybe something warm will help?”

“No,” Marc responds very quickly, before quietly adding, “I don’t want to be alone.”

Jorge curses himself for not preparing for this. “I have some juice though, you really should drink.”

Marc complains when he makes him sit up for a moment, but takes the glass of orange juice, which Jorge at least brought upstairs since he’s not completely forgotten etiquette.

"Need a hand?" Marc asks softly, looking at Jorge's lap. 

"No way," Jorge smiles and shakes his head. "That can wait. Punishment is sexy times for me either mostly."

_Though you might just be the one to change that, but we don't have to go there now and I can wait this out, no worries._

“Talk or nap?” He asks when they slide back under the sheets, Marc shivering in his hold.

“Nap.”

Jorge _understands_ and they can always talk later after all.


	11. The Things You Make Me Do

When he wakes up, he needs a moment to remember.

_Jorge’s place._

It feels good, waking up with someone having an arm around his waist. Bit possessive, but nice. Marc keeps his eyes closed for a moment, needs to buy himself some time here. As soon as he’s capable, Jorge will insist on talking and that’s understandable. And sensible. And Jorge sure saved their day by being so very insisting on taking this slow and at the right pace. But in order to talk, he needs to sort the swirling thoughts in his head.

That punishment or discipline or however that’s supposed to be called was quite an experience after all. He doesn’t fully understand why he let Jorge do that, why he didn’t tell him to stop being ridiculous and stepped away when he still could, after all, the bag of ice had been clearly visible. But in that moment, his feet were glued to the floor and he didn’t want to leave and what does that even say about him?

Though he remembers how Jorge talked him through it, kept repeating that he had done well and even know, just thinking about it, the memory of Jorge saying it sends a flood of warmth right through him.

_Officially insane it is then?_

It dawns on him that he’ll never figure it out by himself anyway and he does the next best thing, blinking his eyes open and turning in Jorge’s hold and as he more or less exptecte, Jorge is awake and smiles at him.

“Feeling okay?” Jorge sounds concerned, gentle as ever.

"Yeah. Warm again." He chuckles nervously and Jorge joins in.

"Okay, I'm glad. You mad at me?"

"Nah, definitely not. I know why you did it and that it's part of the deal." Marc shrugs. 

"So, no regrets?"

 _Regrets?_ "I don't know. Not really. But I- I feel a bit weird, letting you do that to me when I could just walk away."

"Actually, that's the hottest thing in the world, you know, you trusting me with this so much that you would let me do that without walking away from me. Knowing that you do submit to me willingly."

The words hit home. _Submit willingly._ Well, it's dominance and submission. Obviously. So that's what it's going to be like from now on, isn't it?

"Is that... that's how it will be right? There will be the rules and then if I mess up, I get a punishment."

"Yeah. We can... we can talk about rules tomorrow I think, discuss. But yeah, the not coming without my permission isn't really negotiable for me.

"Is it always the same punishment?"

“Okay, generally, yes, that’s the kind of punishment you’d get for coming without permission. Though it’s still been relatively small now, we’ve not really made it a rule. It’s a bit awkward, you know. Anyway, if you want to try living this, it will be a rule because one of the core elements will be that your pleasure is my decision. And coming without permission is serious infraction. So, I’d immediately punish you with something that matches the crime, could be the ice or maybe the opposite, wax works wonders. That’s the teaching a lesson part. And then you won’t be allowed to come for a day or a few days afterwards. And if it’s not just coming accidentally but masturbating, then we’re talking real punishment.”

Hearing Jorge talk about these things is better than any porn if Marc is being honest, his breath hitching at the images it makes pop up in his head.

“Tell me about that.”

“Right. Well, so we’re assuming that I’ve explained all the rules and then you go home on Monday and decide by Tuesday that you’re bored and you’ll get yourself off with a movie and your hands, right?” Jorge stares at him intently and he must be seeing his soul bared there.

“Yeah.”

“See, I’d expect you to man up and tell me. I couldn’t know. But you would know, and I trust you that at one point you’d break and walk up to me to confess. I’d tell you that you’ve been naughty, of course. You’d still have your cock punished for misbehaving and you wouldn’t be allowed to come for at least a week. Though I might make you come dry before, overstimulate till you beg me to stop, till you beg me to be in chastity. And then we’ll have to see what you really hate. Maybe you don’t like the whip, or you hate having your feet caned. You could write lines or whatever and any combination works, too, it just will be something you really detest.”

“That shouldn’t sound hot.” Marc winces.

“Well, the actual punishment wasn’t all that hot, was it?” Jorge shrugs.

“No. But when you describe that… I don’t know. I want that and I don’t understand why I would.”

“Most likely because of what’s afterwards, right?”

Marc blushes. “Maybe?”

“How did it feel?" Jorge brushes his shoulder, making him shiver. "Being taken care of?”

“Okay, I… I mean you know that it does things to me when you say the nice stuff, right?”

“It’s hard to miss.” Jorge chuckles and Marc hides his face in the sheets.

“Yeah And it’s… when you took me to bed and you were there, I was so disconnected from everything else. Actually, during all of it.” Marc pushes himself up, feeling like this is the revelation he’s been waiting for. “There was no pressure, no one else, there was nothing but pleasing you and being yours and I didn’t have to think about anything because you told me everything I had to do. That’s what’s so good about it.”

Jorge pulls him in for a quick kiss and bumps their foreheads together. “Something just clicked, didn’t it?”

“Yeah.” There's a bit of disbelief here, Marc not quite over the fact that it just popped up like this. Out of the blue.

“Is that solving the issue of this morning, too, when you didn’t know why you’d want to kneel for me?”

“I think,” Marc feels his heart stutter a little. “I think it kind of explains everything.”

He leans in, kisses Jorge, properly, with tongue and a bit of teeth. His nails scrape over Jorge’s back and he pushes a little, settles into Jorge’s lap.

“You’re eager again,” Jorge mumbles, his fingers trailing down Marc’s spine and between his cheeks, rubbing over Marc’s already sore hole.

He hasn’t fucked this much ever. And hasn’t been so horny all the time ever before.

“Please,” he mutters, pressing his erection closer against Jorge’s stomach and anyway, Jorge is not exactly soft himself.

“Greedy slut,” Jorge hisses, biting his earlobe, and it makes Marc’s hips buck forward without that he has any control. “You like it when I humiliate you, don’t you?”

Marc winces, because it’s crazy, but then he nods and makes a pathetic little sound in his throat, because Jorge is rubbing over his hole again and Jorge is so right - and Marc would admit _anything_ right now.

“Get on your stomach, baby.”

It’s always hot and cold, eager slut one moment and then it’s a gentle ‘baby’ the next and Marc doesn’t even know, but he’s on his stomach in no time, legs open shamelessly as Jorge pushes a pillow under him.

“Grab the headboard again. When you manage to be really good again, I might even let you come, even though you failed me earlier.”

The words send a shudder down Marc’s spine while his knuckles go white where they’re holding on to the wood.

“Good boy, hm, exposing yourself to me? Your ass looks so beautiful, so pale.” Jorge’s fingers knead the flesh there and Marc is tempted to hump the pillow. “I bet you’re craving for me to put some color on it, aren’t you?”

Instead of a reply, another pitiful moan is all he manages.

“Tell you what, we do this and then you clean up and then, if you ask nicely, you can have your spanking. Would you like that?”

The ‘yes’ is a strangely garbled noise and Marc wants that so much, he’s so curious.

“I’ll love making you cry, baby. And then you’ll come down with me for dinner and a movie and you’ll be squirming all throughout because your ass will burn from my hand.”

“Please.”

This time, Jorge doesn’t say anything whish Marc knows why when he feels Jorge’s tongue between his cheeks and that’s a first, too. He’s howling and quivering when Jorge opens him like this, gentle, delicate licks and he’s not even coherent and barely conscious by the time he fucks into him.

“Please,” he begs whenever his brain has enough capacity to squeeze an actual word between his moans.

“You may come,” Jorge mutters against the skin of his neck. “But I’m not helping. Either you come from my cock alone, or you’re being spanked with your cock still hard and desperate.”

His fingers are about to break the wood they’re holding onto, he’s sure, and he’s groaning with as much pleasure as despair.

He’s never come without being touched and he doesn’t think he can.

Jorge however aims for his prostate like a robot, never missing and making him cry out with the sheer need and desire for more and then, when he’s just convinced himself he’ll die from his arousal, Jorge bites down on his neck, not playfully but plain out forceful, the pain shooting straight to his cock and he’s coming onto Jorge’s sheet with a surprised yelp. He’s taken Jorge right along, probably because Marc must have clenched down him almost painfully.

Jorge is nice enough to let him catch his breath, moving around to discard the condom and then Marc hears him shower quickly.

When he comes back though, towel round his waist and droplets of water running from his hair down his chest, rest is over it seems.

“Okay, you will take a shower and make the bed, I’ll put clean sheet on the dresser while you’re in the bathroom. When the bed is presentable and you’re clean again, you can come to the living room and ask me to go back up here to spank you. It’s your decision though, you can also just join me and we watch the movie and cuddle some. Your pick.”

Marc gulps and waits for his stomach to settle. “Can’t we do it now?” Get it out of the way? Because the anticipation is not going to be pretty.

“Now?” Jorge smirks at him evilly. “I’m not touching you like this, you’re filthy.”

For an instant, Marc is frozen in place, heat slowly reaching from his cheeks down to his chest, tears dwelling up against his will. He practically flees into the shower, turning the water on hot, wanting to scrub himself clean.

The water and mist around him make him feel like he’s in a cloud and he leans against the tile helplessly, waiting for the situation to sink in. Who is he kidding, he’s not going to be able to resist. That little remark about him being filthy went straight to his cock, no denying that, and for that to work when he’s just spent? It’s inevitable, he is stepping out of this shower and then he’ll be making the bed like some maid and he’ll go down to the living room and ask Jorge Lorenzo to beat his ass.

While it’s half-terrifying and his heart is thundering, it’s half-arousing and there’s a flicker of thought that he could just… try provoking unleashed anger by jerking himself off right on the spot, but it’s not going to get him the spanking either way.

“If you want it, it’s not a punishment.” Not wrong, but still mean.

Marc cleans himself for the what? Third time? In a day. And he could bet there’ll be a fourth before bed. And they’re fucking like bunnies and his ass hurts when he moves because he’s not used those muscles that frequently ever.

_The things you make me do._

He steps out of the water with a sigh and shudders in the now cool air before he towels dry perfunctory. He’s somehow always tempted to leave a towel on the floor or drop a pair of underwear, just to test the waters, but right now, the finish line aka Jorge’s hand on his ass is so close that he wants to avoid delaying it again. Even if he’s shaking with anticipation and not just in a good way.

Making the bed, naked, in someone else’s home… it’s a new thing and a way of Jorge clearly putting him in his place. He takes the used sheets to the bin in the bathroom and looks at his work. It’s probably not quite up to Jorge’s standards but it might be good enough to survive.

Go down naked? No, better not. Marc would find this easier if there was a rule about it already and isn’t it scary how quickly he’s adapting to this?

He puts on underwear and sweatpants and borrows a shirt from Jorge. It’s a bit… on instinct? But the “99” feels so right on his chest.

“I’m… ready. I think.” He’s standing in the doorway to the living room and Jorge turns around, smile dying on his lips and replaced by… Marc doesn’t even know how to call it.

_Was borrowing the shirt wrong? You’re staring._

“I’m sorry,” he mutters. “Should I put it away?”

Jorge is still staring and shakes his head. “No,” he says, and his voice sounds hoarse. “It’s… it’s really something.” He can see Jorge swallow. “So, what’s your decision?”

Briefly, Marc eyes the pillow at Jorge’s feet and it looks tempting, the easy way out, but then he’s still not getting what he’s wanted for so long and he’ll kick himself if it doesn’t come up on Sunday anymore.

_Deep breath. You've had it worse._

"Please take me upstairs and spank me, Jorge."


End file.
